Storms of Greysteinn
by BannersAndMash
Summary: Continuation of Silver and Steele (9052147). AU 9th Century. Anna and Kristr are married now. Will life run smoothly for them, or will old enemies come back to ruin their happiness?
1. Chapter 1

Dear all, my attempt at continuation. Thanks for stopping by!

As always, thanks to Wattle (Accidentally There) and Dreams of Valhalla (More than what we seem?) Their stories are AWESOME!

Of course, I put this up when was half asleep, so I made some changes. Thanks for reading.

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Chapter 1

Anna could not stop smiling as Kristr carried her through the cheering guests and well-wishers. It was their wedding day, and she had just confessed to him her secret that she was with babe. Judging by his whoop of delight and his huge grin he was every bit as delighted as she. The love that they shared would continue to grow, at first within her womb. She hoped that their child would have its father's distinctive Celtic hair. She did not care if it were a son or a daughter. Regardless of birth, it would have the love of two families from across the waves, who would care for it, and teach it the ways, myths and legends of both their worlds.

Carefully helping Anna to her feet, he reluctanly led his bride to the assembled women who arranged her on the bridal chair, decorated with ivy, dog roses and oak. He stared in adoration at his wife seated in front of him. He repeated the words to himself, my wife. She looked like a mystical Celtic deity, the embodiment of all that was perfect in nature. Her beautiful rich brown hair, decorated with flowers, her red robe flowing gracefully over her delicate frame, its rich colour bringing out the sparkling blue of her eyes, and luscious pale skin, her cheeks today pinked with excitement and joy. He restrained a growl as he thought of that creamy skin, flushed with different emotions, in their chamber later that eve when they would consummate their marriage and complete the ceremony, sealing their union. Taking to his own seat, his throne for the day, the crowd hushed as Raymond stood to address them.

He cleared his throat 'My Clan, Kin and esteemed guests, I would like to thank you for attending the bridal feast to celebrate the wedding of my only daughter Anna of RathSteele to Kristr Greysteinn of Halsarfjord.' There was a murmur of approval before he continued, 'As you all know, Anna and Kristr started their courtship in a most unorthodox manner.' He looked over to the happy couple who were now both blushing furiously, Kristr from shame at his actions four moons ago, Anna from her embarrassment at falling in love so quickly with a man who had captured her for ransom.

It was only a season ago that Kristr the Viking had abducted Anna of RathSteele in an act of revenge. Anna's betrothed, Jack MacHyde had cheated Kristr out of coin, and determined to retrieve it, and he had taken Anna as a hostage. Neither of them had expected to fall in love, and when the duplicitous colours of the evil MacHyde were finally shown to all, Kristr had the chance to redeem his previous callous actions and rescue Anna from his sworn enemy. MacHyde had joined forces with Kristr's jealous former lover Helgena, on the Shetland Jarlshof, where they had plans to make Anna into a bed-slave for the amusement of her fosterlings. During the daring event, Helgena had been captured and MacHyde had thrown himself over a cliff during a battle with Kristr. Helgena would be tried at an Allthing, the Norse system of justice, for her actions, and no one had even bothered looking for tattered evidence of MacHyde. He did not deserve any funeral, Christian or Norse.

Raymond of RathSteele prepared to continue with his speech. His family had been restored; his rath which was almost razed to the ground by MacHyde was rebuilt and reinforced. The guilt that the proud strong chieftain had felt when he had failed to protect his daughter was now tempered with the knowledge that she would be safe in the hands of her groom. 'I believed that I had lost my daughter for ever, that I had failed my darling Breda,' he was silent for a moment as he thought of his wife, the woman who had borne Anna, and who was taken from him so cruelly fifteen Winters previous, 'but now I know that she has met a man who will love her, cherish her and care for her as she was meant to be. I beseech the Lord in Heaven to grant them a happy marriage. When they sail may the wind always be in their back, where they travel may the road rise to meet them, and may there be many fine Norse sons and Irish daughters for generations to come!'

Not noticing the wink that Kristr gave Anna, Raymond raised his cup of mead and gave the traditional address in Gaelic 'Slainte agus Beannachtai!' The crowd repeated the cheer of 'Health and Blessings' in union, and the feast had begun.

After drinking, dancing and storytelling into the wee hours of the night, Kristr finally decided that it was time that they claimed each other as husband and wife, and he would leave in the way of the ancestors. This exercise was for merriment now, its origins in the old days of bride-stealing. Pushing his chair back, he stood up and threw Anna over his shoulder, who gave a squeal of playful outrage. He drew his sword and shouted to every man in the hall, 'I, Kristr Greysteinn take Anna of RathSteele as my own.' He brandished his weapon at the guests. 'Anyone who wishes to challenge me must stop me before I reach the door, otherwise this night she shall become my wife!'

The initial shock of the Viking's actions mellowed, as the assembled realised the game that was to be played. Each man drew their sword, and made a mock challenge to Kristr, who fended them off easily, scowling, snarling and shouting at his 'enemies' that the woman over his shoulder was his. 'Shh!' he whispered in amusement, 'You are meant to be reluctant!' Her giggles continued; the last time he had abducted her, she was most definitely unwilling, this time she would have carried him out the door, if she had the strength.

The spectacle continued until the groom reached his final two assailant sbefore the solid oak doors of the hall. First there was Joseph, his dark eyes finally softening to the giant Scandinvain before them. Their swords touched with a low clang.

'Look after my sister, Northman.' Joseph finally smiled 'Or I will come for you, brother to brother.'

'She is my everything. I am proud to have joined your family this day, my brother.' Their swords clinked again.

Lastly, it was Raymond, sword drawn, his expression fierce, but his eyes were filled with a father's tears. They parried for a moment before Raymond yielded to the younger man.

'Look after my girl, she may be your bride, but she will always be my daughter.' He leaned on his sword as he addressed his son-in-law.

Kristr's sword touched Raymond's lightly. 'My chieftain, I give you my word. We are now of the one clan, RathSteele and Greysteinn. It is my hope that this union of Norse and Irish will keep peace between the two races.' Letting Anna down, to kiss her Papa goodbye, he then threw her over his shoulder again and strode to their chamber, her laughs carrying into the night.

The door to their room was ajar, the golden glow of the blazing hearth bathing the room in soft light. The women of the rath had prepared their room with newly tanned furs, scented oils and fresh spun linen sheets. Finally letting Anna stand, she looked up at him expectantly. They may have lain together many times, but tonight was different; they were both coming to the union of marriage of their own free will, and tonight she would be his. He was proud to know that he was her husband, and would delight in telling his friends of his good tidings. He gave a low growl as she bit down on her soft lip, and gently freeing it from her perfect white teeth, he leant in and kissed her as if for the first time. His lips pressed onto hers, his tongue exploring, dancing, claiming her sweet pink mouth. He groaned in desire as she met every move of his, welcoming his caresses with soft moans of longing.

Breaking from their embrace she moved to pull off his grey tunic, her eyes limpid lakes of desire when she saw his taut muscular chest and the tattoo over his heart that never failed to arouse her. She touched it lightly.

'Did it hurt?' she asked,

'Ja, but not like pain I felt when I believed I lost you.' It was true; the pain of the ink over his heart was but a scratch compared to the hole that had been left in his chest when he had found her belongings at the edge of the woods in Halsarfjord.

Taking her hand he led her to sit on the bed, tracing a finger slowly along the neckline of her gown, before following it with soft nipping kisses. Continuing his veneration of her soft tender breast bone, he opened the score of buttons on her dress, trailing from her nape to the cleft of her sweet behind. When she stood up, her dress fell in a ruby pool onto the floor, the fine wool fabric rippling in soft waves. Walking a few steps from Kristr, she twirled slowly, displaying her perfect female form for him. She fondled her hands over the curve of her breast, smoothing her palms into the valley of her still slender waist, crading the barely visible swelling of her abdomen.

In the soft flickering light her creamy skin had taken on an ethereal sheen; he was transfixed as he gazed in awe at the goddess made flesh before him.

'Take me, now Kristr,' she breathed softly, 'make me your wife, Husband of mine.'

He did not need a second invitation from the enchanting view before him. Kneeling before her, he pressed his forehead to her belly, savouring the aroma of her tender flesh, planting tender kisses from hip to hip. She carried their child within her glorious body. He raised his arms in reverence to stroke and caress her perfect form; the woman who had so entranced him. Enraptured by her deep blue eyes, her soft pink mouth and her loving face, he stood up and scooped her into his arms. Bestowing a soft kiss on her forehead, laid her on the soft linen, and slowly, sensually, they consumated their marraige as two became one.

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hang in there - I promise, it is going somewhere!


	2. Chapter 2

Hello all. This will make a lot more sense if you have read Silver and Steele.

Thanks Wattle, and DoV!

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Chapter 2

One month previous

Helgena paced within her tiny chamber. Pulling on the door again she scowled in fury. The men never forgot to lock the door. Even if they were careless, the chain wrapped around her ankle gave her no more than five paces from the bed. She laughed dryly as she looked at the hammered iron chain secured around her foot. They were right to be cautious. Her family had lived on the Jarlshof for four generations, and she knew every secluded harbour, cave, tunnel and souterrain in the natural landscape of the island. If one knew where to go, they could hide in plain sight of every other resident. With a favourable tide, the concealed row boats on the south side would easily transport a dozen people down the coast to Albion. To sail north to Orkney was more challenging, but it could be done with a fair wind. When she escaped from here, she knew where she would go. Kristr Greysteinn was not the only fosterling that she had bedded. Under her fosterage, these gangly boys had become men, living all over Denmark and Scandinavia, exercising their power as Jarls, traders, and sea-captains. Inside the bed chamber, they owed her a sexual boon. Outside in the known world, they owed her a debt. Now was the time to collect.

She wondered if Ellrik would be as easily to tempt into seduction as Kerik had been. She never got to complete the deed with the older Greysteinn. As soon as her smiling younger sister had entered the hall, Kerik lost all interest in her, and she had never forgiven either of them that affront. Helgena had made use of her many skills from her young days as a she-warrior, thrown herself in to fostering boys, turning them into men. Some of them she made into men through education in her hall; others through an education on her bed furs. During his time in her fosterage, Kerik's precious second son became her favourite disciplined pet, and he was hers until Kristr had fallen in love with the hafling Anna.

She was disturbed from her thoughts by the rattling of the hasp in the door. Her own cold stare was met by ice-blue eyes, full of intense raw hatred. He looked like his mother in colouring, but had the countenance of his sire. The bloodline of the Greysteinn family was strong. It should have been her that carried that line, not Gertrude her sister, younger by a winter. Her expression softening as she turned on her female charms, she sat down obediently on the bed. 'Ellrik,' she purred, 'how nice to see you.'

'I am not enticed by your wiles, Helgena.' He threw a fresh kirtle on the bed. 'Taylr will be along shortly with water. I suggest you strip and wash, the smell of your body is as foul as your mind.' Ellrik's normal good manners disappeared in the presence of Helgena. She might be his aunt by blood, but she was his enemy in every other way.

She gave a hollow laugh as she thought back to Ellrik's arrival with Catherine. 'Another Greysteinn is in love with a slave?' Her eyes hardened. 'Another Greysteinn fathering half-breed runts.'

'Your poisonous words have no effect on me.' He remained impassive, though it took all his strength. 'Not all Vikings wish to raid. Some of us wish to settle and live out our lives in peace.'

She could not contain her temper. 'Silly fool. You may have land, but you know it is valuable, and you have to protect it from invaders. You are naive if you think we Norse can settle peaceably in Ireland.' Her voice rose to a shriek, 'We will take their green lands by force, and those who are foolish enough, to stand in our way, be they Irish or Norse, will pay with their dirty mixed blood!' She was silenced as Ellrik sharply grabbed her chin. He did not like her veiled threats against Kristr, or any member of his family.

'There is no "we" in this, Helgena.' He leaned into her face, so close his nose almost touched hers. 'You and I are not of the same beliefs, and you will not harm any member of my family, and I will be proud to die defending them.'

She jerked her head away as he turned to leave the chamber. 'That can be arranged, you bastard son of Kerik Greysteinn,' she shouted at the door, hearing the lock once again click into place. Pulling her filthy kirtle off, and ripping it apart in rage, she hurled curses at the rented fabric, wishing it was the entrails of a Greysteinn. She spun around as she heard the door open again. If that was the silent giant Taylr, she would throw the basin of hot water over him and listen in glee at his howls from scalds.

The man at the door raised a dagger. 'Get dressed and be silent about it, lest you want your tongue to join that kirtle.' He pointed to the shredded mess on the floor. 'Acting like a shrieking, spoiled wench will see you dead.' The upcoming distraction would not give him much time.

'As you wish' she sneered, giving an exaggerated curtsey. His eyes followed the swing of her braids and the gentle bounce of her breasts. He licked his lips, in appreciation. Taking a small chisel and mallet from his pouch to break through the chain link, there would be more than one debt to pay before this was over.

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'How is our prisoner this morning Ellrik?' Johan queried between bites of bread and ham. He knew Helgena. She may know she was beaten at the moment, but she did not become a strong Viking woman by acquiescence. Helgena would go to her death or banishment before she admitted defeat.

'She is spitting her usual venom.' Ellrik shook his head. His own family situation aside, he had no time for the purity of blood that Helgena espoused.

Johan gave a rare frown. 'There are many like her, Brother. Not within the Danelaw or in the northwest Scandinavian lands, but you know as well as I do that those from the northeast would enslave and conquer those that they do not recognise.' His travels had taken him far and wide, and although he looked like a Northman courtesy of his father, half his blood was Irish, thanks to his mother. As he slipped and moved between societies, sometimes in disguise, he knew the greed and hatred that was out there for different peoples.

'When my father arrives, we should return and get her tried by the Allthing as soon as possible.' Ellrik stabbed at his own trencher of food. He had no desire to hold her as a prisoner in Halsarfjord. The sooner she was banished to Vinland in the far Northwest, the happier he would be. Johan grunted in agreement. Her poisonous thoughts, as toxic as arsenic, ate away at the sanity of those who came into contact with her.

Both men jumped up from the hearth when they heard the toll of the harbour bell, and made their way to the tiny dock, the charred remains of larger boats remained there, their blackened skeletons a chilling warning of Taylr's determination to prevent their enemies from leaving. Shading his eyes to afford a better view of the two ships that were sailing from the open sea towards the land, Ellrik's face broke into its trademark smile. Kerik had arrived.

The booming voice carried easily as the ships came into dock. 'My sons!' He grasped Ellrik's forearms, before pulling him into a bear hug. Kerik's oldest son might be 24 summers old, but he was still delighted to see his boy fit and well. He greeted Johan and Taylr, with a huge grin and a slap on the back. 'Where is my horn of ale? Have I missed the ceremony?'

Ellrik laughed at his sire 'The only women here are Helgena's thralls or the half-troll herself. It might be better if you do not sip from any cup that you have not poured yourself.'

Kerik looked around, surveying the buildings. Jarlshof was well cared for. Obviously Helgena had put her fosterlings to work. 'I take it that Kristr has taken Anna to Donegal?' If MacHyde was dead, he knew that Kristr would see any ransom demand waived. He felt sorrow for his son; the couple did love each other, but whether Anna's love for Kristr over her blood kin remained to be seen.

'Ja, they left after the raid. The coward MacHyde threw himself over the cliff, and Helgena has been captured. Come and enjoy the hospitality of our prisoner. I am sure you will enjoy some fresh meat in a dagmal.' These lands had become the spoils of war, and unless the Allthing required that danegeld or reparations be paid to the fosterlings, Ellrik presumed Jarlshof belonged to his mother Gertrude now.

Kerik growled as he thought of Helgena. 'Where is she anyway? She is a sly one.' He thanked the Norns, or Fates, for weaving his thread of life to the sweet Gertrude, rather than the conniving Helgena. When Kristr had finally confessed what she had done to him during his fosterage, it had given him many sleepless nights. If he could run his sword through her for those actions, he would do so gladly. Only his honour prevented him from killing her, like he would a man.

Ellrik led his father through the back of the hall to a small chamber used by the slaves. Opening the hasp of the door he was surprised that Helgena had not started with her litany of curses. Her submissive behaviour earlier in the day would not last. The silence was broken by his own tirade of swearing as he looked at the pile of tattered clothes on the floor and the broken chain snaking across the room.

It took a firm shake from Kerik to shake his son from his blind rage. His son would make a fine leader, but was still learning to control his emotions. 'Ellrik, you know how dangerous she is. You need to be calm and consider this position as a Jarl.'

'Ja. We will get our vengeance on her, but first we must get these fosterlings to safety within their familes, and locate Kristr and Anna in Donegal.' Kerik approved of his son's decision. The safety of their family was priority now over any revenge that was planned.

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Nobody saw the turf cover of the hidden passageway open a crack, as the two people within observed the woman-hunt that was being undertaken on Jarlshof. Night could not come quickly enough. The smaller person snarled in rage. Kristr may have been able to save Anna from a life of slavery, but would the tiny Halfling be able to rescue him? The hiss of hatred continued. The debts would be collected.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello all, thanks for reading, thanks for the PMs, and Danish H, if you register, I can respond to your reviews too :)

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Chapter 3

Kristr lay on the bed, propped up on his elbow as he watched his wife sleep. Anna, his wife. He decided that they were the two of the three most beautiful words in his language. In any language. They were married in a Christian ceremony by a short, round, balding monk. The funny-looking little clergyman didn't seem to mind that Kristr was pagan; he supposed the old ways were still there in tradition, and the priest was not of a disposition to argue with the chieftain, or his daughter. The whole process was at odds with what he knew from Halsarfjord, and he mused on the differences and similarities between the two.

He still was not sure if his father would accept the union. It was true that with MacHyde dead, Kristr had the right to negate the ransom demand, and he believed Kerik would not challenge him on that. However, the Christian ceremony was a different matter; in the eyes of Norse law he was not wed. There were similarities between both lands. He had paid Raymond a healthy bride price for Anna, and would have given everything he owned for her. They exchanged vows and rings in front of witnesses. They had a celebratory feast. They consummated their union, and this had completed the Christian ceremony. Now he waited for his wife to awaken so that he could close with the final Norse ceremony.

She looked so peaceful there as he studied her face. If he pulled the fur down to expose her nude body, the morning chill would not only waken her, it would arouse him, and he wanted to make this quiet reflective moment last forever. Thinking of the child that was growing within her, and how her body would change from that of a maiden to a mother made his skin tingle with desire. He believed that there was not one more beautiful in all the carvings and statues of Rome, Athens or Constantinople. Her smooth forehead, creasing and relaxing in her dream state, the smile on her adorable pink mouth, still swollen from last night's embraces. He hoped she was dreaming of him. He wanted to nibble on her long eyelashes, lying almost black against her pale skin; to kiss her sweet nose, to caress her cheeks. He could not resist leaning over and stroking her hair, spilled over the pillow with the sun casting a soft sheen over the tendrils that curled at her temples.

His movements caused her to stir. As he looked down in adoration, she opened her eyes, and giving a stretch that must have added half a hands-width to her height, smiled up at him, her reciprocal love shining though her clear blue eyes. 'Good morning, Kristr.' The smile became a little shy, 'Husband.' Using every ounce of resistance within his body, he leant down to give her a tender kiss on her bee-stung lips.

'Are you sore today, Sweetling?' Thinking of the previous eve, and their vigorous lovemaking, suddenly worried, he asked, 'Will our babe be well? Is it safe?'

She gave a little giggle 'Aye, the babe will be fine. The older women told me that relations between couples do not cause any difficulties.'

'Just as well,' he growled in her ear, 'I hope to be able to perform my husbandly duty for you every day for the next four score years!' Giving Anna a mock frown as she chuckled at his declarations of virility, he became serious. 'I have a gift for you this morning.' Seeing her confusion, he continued, 'It is a Viking tradition, from a new husband to his new wife. This morning gift symbolises the love and respect I feel for you as my wife.' He reached under his pillow and brought out a small leather pouch, and handed it to her, waiting for her response. 'I had brought the metal in my sea chest, and had Eamon, the smithy, fashion them for me.'

She gasped in amazement at the shining gold hair clips curved in her palm. 'They are beautiful, Kristr, thank you. And perfect as now I am a married woman I shall have to pin my hair up at all times.' She ran her fingers over the pattern engraved onto them. 'Did you do this?' she asked in awe. When he nodded shyly, Anna was speechless, tears in her eyes. 'You did all this for me? When?' With Kristr's coin being used to rebuild RathSteele, everyone in the tribe had been busy from dawn to dusk; men, women, the four Norse fosterlings, even Raymond, Joseph, Kristr had been toiling in the fields, and Anna had been busy with her loom.

'During the moon before we married, Raymond permitted me some daylight hours every morning to create this for you, and I would toil for hours on end if it meant making something beautiful for you.' Kristr had explained the tradition to his future father-by-marriage, who was only delighted to help the man who had been so smitten by his daughter. 'It is a pity that you must cover your beautiful hair now, but I would much rather be your husband with your hair hidden, only for my eyes, than not be wed and see your braid.' He twisted the gold ring on her finger. 'Mine,' he breathed.

'Yours.' Then, placing her hand over his heart and tattoo, she repeated his words. 'And you are mine.' His smile of agreement said it all.

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Anna finally arrived for her morning meal, after being fussed over by the women of the rath. They clucked and speculated over the wedding night. Anna refused to comment but judging by her blushes the women had an idea of what transpired, and they continued to tease her as they dressed her hair in the style of a married woman. Her two short braids were coiled up and pinned at the nape of her neck, and a white head kerchief was secured over the crown of her head with her new golden clips. Although she had not been virgin when she came to her marital bed, now her status was there for all to see. Blushing furiously as she made her way up the hall, Kristr stood and greeted her with a chaste kiss to the cheek, before helping her to a seat on the dais.

Helping himself to a huge portion of greens and eggs, Raymond winked at his son-by-marriage. 'Well, son of mine, are you planning to take my daughter on one of your honey-moons?' Even on RathSteele, the Norse tradition of the newlyweds eloping for the cycle of a full moon was known. Raymond's wink said more. A full moon of time alone generally resulted in a babe. He dreamed of a brown-haired baby girl, like his own precious Anna, with bright blue eyes, a kind nature and a sharp mind.

He was broken from his reverie by Kristr's words. 'My Chieftain,' Kristr was still not prepared to show Raymond anything other than the greatest respect, 'We should like to sail to my home in Halsarfjord, so that I may formally acknowledge Anna as my wife, and that we may see Helgena tried at the Althing for her crimes against Anna.' His unspoken worry was still his sire's opinions.

'I see,' Raymond pursed his lips. 'And where do you plan to settle with my daughter?'

Kristr gently corrected him, 'My Chieftain, Anna is my wife now, and I will be happy where she is. However, I would like to take her on my next merchant voyage to Constantinople.' Anna shrieked in delight. A sea voyage to the edge of the known world would be so exciting. If only Catherine and Ellrik would go with them.

Whilst Kristr spoke the truth in that he would be happy where Anna was, he hoped that they would be able to spend a considerable amount of time in Halsarfjord. Ellrik may be the Jarl in waiting, but as a second son there they would always have a place to live. He supposed the same now applied for RathSteele; Joseph would be chieftain there, and there would always be a home in Donegal. He had enough coin to buy a farm in either land, but for the meantime they could move between the two families in winter and sailing to exotic shores in summer.

The conversation and the meal were broken by the wild clanging of the church bell. The deafening noise only meant one thing. Invaders. Grabbing his sword, Raymond ran out of the hall, followed closely by Kristr and Joseph. Unsheathing her dagger, Anna made to follow the men, calling for Kristr to wait on her.

'Nei, Sweetling, not this time.' He kissed her sweetly.

'But you taught me to defend myself, and now I have the chance!' She pouted in frustration.

'To defend yourself, ja, but not to attack.' He tucked back a stray hair that had already escaped her new head kerchief. 'I will teach you to assail an enemy too, in good time. It will be a useful skill.' She gave a half smile, in half defeat, but her eyes told Kristr that he would be held to his promise. She watched in worry as he ran out after the other men of the rath.

The clanging had stopped. The red-striped sail was plain for all to see. Fergus turned to Raymond, 'It is Viking, but we do not know yet if they are friend or foe.'

'All right, but we are prepared for the worst.' After MacHyde's dawn raid, Raymond would never let his guard down again, as he looked at the men around him, his warriors and his sons.

Just as Ellrik had squinted against the sun a full moon previous, Kristr copied his brother's movements. 'It is not foe, it is my father , and some other Jarls from the coast,.' He was not sure if this was a good thing. If Kerik had come to protest his wedding, he would not choose his blood sire over his true love.

As he moved towards the edge of the water and the ship coming in to dock, Kerik's familiar voice boomed over the air. 'Hej, Kristr-Son! I hope you are well.' Kristr breathed a sigh of relief. His father had not sailed in anger.

And, just as Kerik complained about the lack of ale ceremony to Ellrik a full moon earlier, he repeated his moans to Kristr. 'Fadir, that is a Norse tradition, not Irish.' He motioned to the stone-faced men standing behind him. 'Come, Fadir, I would like you to meet my new family. Raymond, Chieftain of RathSteele, and his son, Joseph. ' Kristr smiled inwardly at Kerik's raised eyebrow; Maria would have loved to have seen it to add it to her mimicry.

The formalities over, Kerik's loud voice carried over the low-lying fields. 'Well, where is my new daughter?'

As if she heard him, which, naturally she did, she came walking towards Kristr. As he took her hand protectively, he whispered to her, 'Shh, All is well.' With a smile and a deep curtsey she greeted her new father by marriage and her Jarl. Kerik was not quite so formal as he picked her up, and gave such a bear hug, she was nearly suffocated.

'Welcome, Anna Dottir,' he used Norse. 'I am proud to have you in our family.'

Kristr breathed a sigh of relief, as Anna offered to go back to the rath to have a meal prepared for their guests. 'I was concerned Fadir, that you would not give your blessing.'

'I would have always given my blessing as both your father and Jarl when the terms of the ransom were met.' Kerik shrugged. 'I know as well as you do that your quarrel was with MacHyde and now that he is dead, the ransom is void. I expected a marriage to occur, I had just hoped it would be Viking.'

'The marriage was Christian, Fadir. I am wed in the eyes of Anna's law, and I have given her a morning gift. It was just this morning that we shared that tradition.' He smiled in remembrance of Anna's joy at her gift.

Kerik laughed loudly and slapped him on the back. 'So I missed a Christian wedding by a mere sunrise?' He gave a mock tsk. 'Well, when you come home to Halsarfjord, you shall have to take your Viking vows too.'

'Gladly, Fadir. Anna is determined that we shall combine, not divide our cultures.' Kristr paused. 'I had a fear that you were coming to prevent a wedding. I am glad I was wrong.'

'I did not come to prevent your happiness, son. Rather I am here to protect it. Helgena has escaped, with help from another. We do not know yet who the culprit that aided her is, but I want you and Anna to come to Halsarfjord for safety.'

Kristr paled in fear, then anger. 'Who does she want?'

'I do not know son, but based on what Ellrik has told me and your history with Helgena, I do not want to risk any lives.'

Kristr always respected the word of his Jarl, but this was his father who spoke. 'As you wish. Thank you, Fadir.'


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you for reading : )

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Chapter 4

Kristr walked with his father back towards the rath. He was concerned for the safety of both his families now, if Helgena was free. MacHyde was dead, of that he was certain, and according to Kerik, all the fosterlings left on Jarlshof had denied any knowledge of her escape. The female thralls were especially concerned to know she was at large. Ethel and Ruth were made freedwomen by Kerik, and did not want to have a slave collar about their necks again.

As they reached the open gates of the rath, Kerik put out his hand to stop his son. 'What do you wish to do about the threat?'

Kristr ran his hands through his hair, the action tousling it further. He frowned as he thought of the options. 'Fadir, my intention was to bring Anna back to Halsarfjord, then after the Winter season take her on my next trading voyage to Byzantium.' Studying the fresh turf walls of the rath, the new solid oak fences and spiked ramparts, he continued, 'RathSteele is well-fortified now, and if the Norse foster-children stay here, with the permission of the Jarls, it will be protected from attack by those who sail within the Dane law.' Kerik nodded in approval. Outside the Dane law were Viking from the eastern shores of Scandinavia. They had not yet attacked these isles, as they were still wild berserkers, bent on war, piracy and slavery with both the Gothic Saxons, and the Rus, one of many tribes that lived along the Volga.

'The rath may be well-protected now, son, but how well do they train their warriors?' Kerik puffed his chest out, and brought himself to his full height. He knew the Irish could wage war, if the mood took them, but as far as he was concerned, the training provided to his people was superior.

Kristr gave a chuckle, 'Fadir, you know that they are a volatile lot, the Irish, their countenance changing between delight and depression faster than the weather or a tide on StrangFord.' He motioned to his father to follow him as he made his way to the left side of the rath, the light-voiced shouting and noises of the field carrying easily.

Curious, Kerik watched the Norse fosterlings play a ball game with some of the youths from the RathSteele clan. The game moved fast, and his eyes flicked back and forth as he tried to keep up. The leather stitched ball was hit with a dull slap against the broad base of a wooden stick, each player having one; the missile then went flying through the air with an eerie whistle before being intercepted by another thud on the flared end of an ash bat, the direction of game play changing again.

'It looks like battle,' as he cheered on the boys, not caring which side was winning.

'It is called hurling, and it helps train the boys for war.' For the youths to enter the mayhem, often coming out bruised, bloody and toothless was a sign of their dexterity, skill and fearlessness, or foolishness, depending on the injury, and their mothers. 'The ball is called a sliotar and the stick is called a caman.'

'I can see the benefit in its use in battle training.' Kerik was impressed with how agile the players were, and the skills that were being developed. If the Irish men could wield a sword with the control used in swinging one of those caman, they would be a formidable force. Perhaps the Irish could teach him a thing or two after all.

* * *

The Jarls who had travelled with Kerik descended into the hall, and Raymond was delighted to be able to provide refreshment for them from the RathSteele cauldron, and the feast would soon follow. His rath was now more secure than it had been in many seasons. He recalled his grief when Anna was abducted, and her loss had sent him into a melancholy. Despite Joseph's best efforts, the rath had been neglected. The subsequent raid by MacHyde's men when they were so vulnerable had shaken Raymond back into his role as leader of the clan. Now, with Kristr's generous bride-price and the help of the Norse foster-children, the rath was prosperous and happy, and secure.

Although it was a new concept to foster over the waves, the obvious well-being of the Norse boys was welcomed by the Jarls. They were learning a new language and Raymond was an excellent educator, without the rod so preferred by Helgena. With so many people available to translate, the conversation flowed as freely as the ale. The suggestions made by Kristr were welcomed by all; the boys were more than happy to stay in the wet but mild climate, and the Jarls were content to know that their second-born sons were still learning effective skills to go out into the world. Judging by some of the doe eyes that had been made between the Irish lasses and the young Norse cubs, it was noisily suggested that there may be more marriages and babes between the lands.

Kerik was enjoying the hospitality offered by Raymond, and standing up on the table, yelled loudly to get everyone's attention. Kristr shook his head, smiling to himself. His father's voice had no other tone other than deafening. He could not be ignored, unless the audience had no ears to hear.

'I missed my son's wedding by a sunrise!' Raising his cup high above his head, Kerik was at full volume, 'He did not have a traditional evening with his men folk to advise him of the ways of marriage and women.' The statement was met by guffaws and bawdy comments from the assembled north men; the notion of any son of Kerik Greysteinn not having sampled pleasures of female flesh provided great amusement.

Kristr tried to avoid Raymond's eye. His father by marriage would not be impressed by tales of the lusty activities of his youth, never mind his secret history with Helgena. In between the howls of laughter at his expense, Raymond slipped in on the bench beside his son-by-marriage, and gave a half smile. 'Do not worry, Son. We were all young once. As long as you are faithful to my Anna, any past, ah, indiscretions are forgiven.'

Kristr, waving his hands at the crowd, getting louder as they continued to empty their cups, whispered to Raymond, 'Ja, but their exaggerated tales are not something that the grandfather of my children needs to know.'

'Well son-of-mine' Raymond all but shouted in glee, joining in with the good-natured abuse, 'there's only one way to go about that!' Kristr knew that the verbal sparring would go on all afternoon and evening, with him as the sole target of all the mirth. He would leave his two fathers to their cups of ale, and he would go find his wife.

* * *

Anna was in the minor hall, preparing threads for weaving. He watched her from afar for a moment. She was kneeling on the floor, a hank of thread supported between her wrists, as another woman carefully carded it onto a spindle. She was smiling and chatting with her partner, each wrist twisting in turn, freeing another length of skein to be guided onto the wooden staff. He felt his cock stir as he watched her; the idea of her kneeling before him, her wrists bound with the same yarn, her sweet mouth over his own shaft. Just at that moment, she turned and saw him, her pink lips breaking into a joyous smile. He could not wait any longer, and his expression must have made his intentions clear as her eyes widened, and her teeth captured her lower lip.

'Do not bite that lip,' he growled, brushing his thumb over her soft mouth. 'Kristr,' she whispered softly, 'What do you want?'

His thumb continued its slow caress of her lip. Gazing into her eyes, grey into blue, he replied, 'You.' Ignoring the giggles of the women in the weaving room, he grabbed her cloak, her hand, and all but dragged her out the door, out of the rath and towards the woods.

'Kristr, what are you doing? Where are we going?' Anna had assumed from the look of desire in his eyes that he had wanted to make love. Stopping briefly so that she could catch her breath, he twisted her arm easily behind her back; giving a soft moan of pleasure, when she did not resist. Stroking her nape with his free hand, he leaned over and kissed her, nipping her lips, his tongue invading, exploring, claiming her willing mouth as his territory. Whatever he had in mind was not gentle coupling. Her quiet gasps of desire were driving him insane. Breaking the kiss, he smiled wickedly, and, not letting her hand go, strode on towards the woods.

The deep leafy green of the trees brought back a frightening memory for Anna. He sensed her fear, and this is why he chosen this place and time. Stopping and leaning against a tree, he pulled her towards him, cupping her face with his hands. He bestowed a soft slow kiss onto her forehead. 'Sweetling, four moons ago I did something most ignoble here.' He could not help but remember the fear tearing through her body on that fateful day, and he could not help but remember his own rage at MacHyde. 'With your consent, we might be able to put our first meeting to rest.'

Giving a small tremble, which turned into a shiver of anticipation, she stretched up on to her tiptoes, and gave him a short but loving kiss.

'Well, Viking, this time, you will not find me so easy to subdue,' she smirked as she unpinned her cloak and tossed it over Kristr's head, temporarily blindfolding him. She hitched up her skirts and ran off into the cool woods. He grinned in amusement as he caught the flash of blue kirtle, and took off running after her, giving a Viking battle cry.

It did not take him long to catch up with her. She may have been light on her feet, but with her tiny height she was no match for his long muscular legs. The run had caused her still-unfamiliar head-dress to fall to the ground, her braids uncoiling to her shoulders. Snaking an arm around her waist she giggled and squealed as he wrestled her to the ground. He straddled over her wriggling body, easily pinning her wrists with one hand.

'Viking marauder!' She was enjoying the play, now that it was a game and not survival. 'Berserker! Unhand me!' She writhed below his legs, knowing the movements would excite him.

'Feisty Irish wench!' Turning her over on the soft forest floor, he unknotted her soft rope girdle, smiling to himself thinking of the last time he used it. Taking her wrists, the struggle did not last as he bound them behind her, and helped her onto her knees. He circled his wife slowly, watching as her eyes followed him one way, and then caught up with his gaze on the return journey. He got down on his haunches and looked directly into those deep blue, her pupils so dilated there was nothing but a narrow rim of colour. 'Do not move,' the whisper from his lips grazed her ear.

Anna jumped as she heard the sound of ripped fabric, and feeling the cool summer air on her breasts. She gasped when she saw what he had done. Her kirtle was sliced open as far as her navel. Pushing the fabric off her shoulders down onto her bound arms, she again followed his stare to the right, and back up from the left as he lazily circled his captive, admiring the view. Stopping, he trailed his tongue over her creamy white shoulders, inching up her slender neck. 'Uh, huh, no, my Sweetling,' he chided as she tried to move into a kiss, pouting when he moved away. Slowly, he began to nibble and nip at her skin. 'I want to mark you as mine, my Anna,' the bites became more firm.

The sharp feeling of the bite was tempered by soft sucking and licking. The sensation was exquisite, as she felt herself submit to his ministrations. 'Yes,' she didn't want him to stop and closed her eyes, revelling in the thrill of her nude body at his mercy. Alive with desire, her tender flesh tingled in anticipation of his lips, as his hands stroked and kneaded her breasts, softly pinching her dusky pink nipples, already firm and erect with the exposure to the chilled forest atmosphere. It was a contrast to the delicious warmth of his mouth caressing her body, the heat rising within her core, even though he had not yet turned his attention to her sweet honeyed folds. 'Kristr,' she tried to twist her body to tease his mouth further south. 'I want more.'

He chuckled against her breast, listening to her heart beat wildly within her ribcage. His own heart and cock swelled with pride in the knowledge that he made her feel like this. As his tongue languidly circled one nipple, then the other, 'Ah, Sweetling, I want to give you more.' His hand reached down to the hem of her torn gown. His fingers, slowly, nimbly curved up between soft lush skin and the fine woven linen of her shift before cupping his hand over her curls, his thumb running over the light seal of her nether lips, exposing her bud to his sensual embrace. Sliding one, finger, then two into her warm sweet core, she felt the tension rise once more within her womb, with his expert stimulation of all that made her a woman, she cried out his name in shuddering delirium before vaguely feeling Kristr ease her helpless body to the ground. When she awoke, her hands were free and she was lying on his cloak, savouring his scent through the woollen fibres. She glanced down, her own cape protecting her modesty, and she was enjoying the innocent yet intimate sensation of Kristr's fingers combing through her hair. Touching the numerous love bruises that he had left on her body, she felt a sense of calm; they would be hidden by her garments. Her body and its decoration were for his eyes only.

* * *

The man and the woman were still concealed in the caves on Jarlshof. The surroundings were not luxurious, but there was enough dried meat, fish and flatbread to provide sustenance for a month. He had not sought his reward yet, but he would claim her body soon enough, and she would comply lest she wanted to be turned over to the Greysteinn family.

Helgena was not sure what he wished to gain by freeing her. He was a nobody, practically a bondi, one step up from a thrall. When the time came, she would lay with him if it meant her freedom. A means to an end. The tides would turn soon and would carry their small vessel to Denmark. From there she would collect debts from former fosterlings, and sail to the Eastern shores of Scandinavia and gather mercenaries. MacHyde's plan had failed. Hers would not.

Looking out of the cave entrance at the unsettled grey sea, she addressed the man. 'So, tell me, what is your plan now that your master is dead?' Taunting him, she suggested with a sneer, 'Perhaps you have hidden him on Jarlshof, waiting until he can sail to Dubh Linn and try to wreak his revenge on Kristr Greysteinn over the seas?'

The man gave a hollow laugh. 'He is most certainly dead, that corpulent waste of seed could not survive without me, and I have fought his battles for the past score of years.' Seeing her look of disgust as his disrespect towards his dead master, he ignored it and continued, 'He treated me as his man-servant, his vassal, but we shared the same father. My name is Lorcan MacHyde, and I will finally claim what is mine.'

* * *

NOTE  
Strangford Lough in Northern Ireland was named by the Norse. It isn't very wide, but it has a treacherously fast current.

Hurling is the oldest known field sport in the world, and is still played in Ireland. I'm truly not a fan of bloodsports, and I'm also a total wimp, but seeing 30 men beat the s**t out of each other in an inter-club grudge match is one of life's hot little pleasures. If you don't get it, check out the following website. I can't link to it, but type what you see: www dot cracked dotcom slash funny-359-hurling/


	5. Chapter 5

Hello, as always, thanks for stopping by!

* * *

Chapter 5

'Arrrrrrghhhhhhh.' The voice started loudly as was normal, but faded into a guttural plea to a deity. A hand fumbled for a dagger, sword, axe, whimpering with each tentative move, as the loud footsteps came to a stop beside his cold body.

'Fadir, what are you doing?' Kristr could not help but smirk at his father lying on the floor, helpless as a newborn babe. His brown curly hair was wilder than usual, and he was naked from the waist up. He left a cup of water by his father's head.

The moaning continued, 'Put a sword in my hand, so that when I die, as is obvious this day, I may be welcomed to Valhalla.' Kristr threw his head back in laughter. Vikings were known to be fearless in life, and faced death unafraid. To die with a weapon in one's hand secured the entrance to Valhalla, the feasting hall of Viking warriors. Kerik had obviously partaken in too much mead and ale last night, and was suffering the consequences this morning.

'And, why, can I ask, are you naked?' He looked around the bodies scattered casually around the hall and spotted a heap of clothes in the corner. The mound of garments started to shuffle and groan, cloaks and tunics spilling off the whimpering mass as it tried to sit up, the soft swears in Irish identifying the pile as Raymond.

'Stop shouting at me, son, and let me die in peace.' Kerik rolled over onto his belly, the criss-cross marks of the rushes that were scattered on the floor leaving a basket weave pattern on his back. Taking the cup of water from his son, he groaned as the recollections of the previous evening came flooding back. 'War wounds.' Another groan arose from the pit of his stomach, as he burped and winced at the acid that filled his throat. He pointed at the shuffling-tunic pile. 'Your father-by-marriage said he had more battle wounds than I did, and I could not let him believe that he was a greater warrior than I.'

'Wonderful.' When he left the ale-fest the previous afternoon Raymond and Kerik were well on their way to drunkenness. Obviously having lost Kristr as the focus of their humour, in typical male fashion, they had tried to best one another. He had been there himself many times, and felt nothing but mirth at seeing a Chieftain and a Jarl acting as if they were still less than a score of years old. At their age they would certainly suffer for their actions.

Clapping his hands loudly, he was met by a chorus of swears and curses in two languages, calling down the wrath of whatever god was listening. 'So, Fadir, naturally you had to strip to your skin.'

'I had to prove who was the braver man.' Kerik would have scowled if he had the strength. His son was treating him like a recalcitrant child. He squinted up to see his precious second born standing over him, arms folded with a smile so wide he was convinced Kristr had polished his teeth extra white on purpose so as to blind him.

'Well, we shall see who is the braver man when the chaos that you all have created is seen by the clan. I am quite sure your war wounds of old will feel freshly opened today when you are on the receiving end of a tongue lashing from the women of RathSteele.' Chuckling, he stepped over his father, a variety of other semi-comatose bodies and left the hall, shouting over loudly for Anna. If Kerik had not been concentrating so much on the clanging swords of the miniature warriors that had decided to do battle in his head, he would have laughed at his son's mimicry of his voice.

* * *

'I am here, Kristr.' He turned to see his Anna come towards him, her skirt hitched up nearly to knee, showing her slim ankles and calves, a basket of eggs in the crook of her arm. He eyed her appreciatively, licking his lips in anticipation. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and playfully pushed him away, as he tried to curl his arm around her waist for a longer embrace. 'Be gone, pest! I have to bring these so that the cooks can prepare the meal to break our fast.' She giggled, 'besides, you created more than enough havoc yesterday.' She recalled her torn kirtle and the secret love bites that he had left over her shoulders and breasts.

He continued with his audacious fondling of her body. Almost as if he could see her thoughts, he caressed her shoulders and breastbone. 'Nei, I would not worry about a morning meal.' He started to laugh as he recounted the scene within the hall. Anna's face went from horror to amusement to disgust, and back to amusement as she thought of the women who worked in the kitchens and their reaction when they saw the mess the men had created.

She shrugged 'Well, they shall have to cool down in the same skin in which they heated up.' Nothing was going to make the men feel better except time. By the time the women had berated and scolded them, they would wish they had never partaken in the cauldron of ale.

He fell in time with her much smaller steps as they went to the cooking hall to leave off the eggs. 'I shall have to ask that they start preparing some viands for our travel back to Halsarfjord.' The sailing trip would take a sennight, and she was keen to make sure they were well-prepared.

'Are you sure you do not mind leaving your father and Donegal?' He understood the pull of one's own land, but would sail to the ends of the earth for his wife. 'What about Joseph?' Kristr still was not sure his new brother trusted him, but he would earn Joseph's respect, for Anna's sake. 'Do you think he would sail with us? He could see for himself that you and Catherine are well cared for and loved.'

'I will miss my father, for sure,' she sighed, 'but you are my husband, and I want to be with you, wherever that may be. I am sure that Joseph would enjoy a sea voyage, but I do not seek his approval for our union. He should see that I am happy.' He was glad she felt the same way. 'I do miss Catherine dearly and also, now that I am with child, we should travel before I am as wide as the hurling field!'

Stopping in his tracks, he brought her close to him, and with one arm around her waist, which would soon thicken, he caressed her slightly swollen belly. 'You are the most beautiful woman in the world to me, and the gift that you carry within you only adds to your beauty.' Kissing her chastely on the forehead, they paused in their sweet lovers' clinch for a moment before continuing on to the cooking hall, leaving the eggs and collecting some food for their own meal.

* * *

Under a huge leafy oak tree, Kristr spread his cloak on the ground, and motioned for Anna to sit. Resting back on her knees, she unpacked the basket and carefully laid out the raspberries, scone bread, hard boiled eggs and thick slices of cold bacon onto a square of linen. Tearing a piece of bacon into strips, and slicing an egg into three, she arranged it onto a slice of bread and handed it to her husband, before preparing the same for herself. In between bites she wondered aloud when they would sail.

Kristr started to chuckle, thinking of his father, and what a poor sailor he would make both today and on the morrow. Kerik would be less use than ballast in the hull in his current situation.

'What amuses you so?' Anna chewed slowly, tilting her head as she watched him enjoy his private joke.

'Oh, just the actions of our fathers from yester-eve. The babe in your womb has more sense than your sire.' She nodded in agreement. Raymond had obviously enjoyed himself; she had seen it before, but curiously, not when he had betrothed her to MacHyde. She reflected on that evening when the deal was made; no merriment was made, it was a formal affair. Maybe Raymond had known it had been a poor choice, but blinded by worry for his daughter's safety had ignored his usual good judgement. It did not matter now anyway. She was safe with Kristr, she felt secure when he was near.

As his laughter faded, his expression changed. 'I hope that we can set sail in the next few days. I do not expect there will be anyone at Jarlshof, but we can make use of the buildings to shelter for an evening.' When he saw her trembling in fear, he cupped her face in his hands, running his thumbs across the worry lines on her forehead. 'Shh, no lines.' He gently massaged the muscles until she relaxed her expression. 'When we return to Halsarfjord, we shall increase the security of the steading. MacHyde is dead, and I will not let Helgena get to you, or our babe, again.'

'Why does she hate me so?' Anna enquired, 'I have not caused her any harm in this world.'

'Nei, it is me with whom she is angry. Her actions were to punish me, not you.' Kristr closed his eyes. He would have to tell Anna sometime about Helgena and her particular tastes in bed-sport, but now was not the time. To soothe his wife's nerves, he continued, softening the truth, 'She was protective of the foster children in her care. She was a very good educator, but was very strict. For every boy she successfully turned into a man, she took all the glory, and believes that they all owe her a debt.' He recalled how sick he felt when he told his father how Helgena had taken him to her bed as a young lad, the beatings that had confused and aroused him, and his eventual desire and achievement to do the same to her much older but well-cared for body.

'So, what was your debt to her?' Anna was curious now. 'Was it coin to pay for your fosterage?'

Kristr swallowed. He was convinced her clear blue eyes could see right into his soul. He hated stretching the truth with his wife, but he needed to have her safe with his family in Halsarfjord before he could be completely honest. 'It is not important now, but she believes that I did not pay my debt to her. I believe that I did, and Kerik supports my decision. That is why she stole you from me. She wanted revenge.' Anna shivered at the icy note of his voice. He pulled her close and held her tight. 'She will not have you. You are mine.'

* * *

In the cave, Helgena inspected the boat thoroughly. They would start to sail to Jutland before dawn broke. The sky was clear, and the stars would guide them down the east coast of Albion until they reached the rocky Danish coast. There it would be a short journey overland to visit her former fosterling and claim her debt. Jack MacHyde may have wanted Anna, but she would have Kristr.

Lorcan lay back, his hands linked behind his head, he watched her body dip and sway. She bent over the side of the vessel, checking for warps in the timber showing her ample behind. On her hands and knees as she checked the underside of the hull, he leered over the cleft of her breasts. Despite being over two score in years, she was a fine specimen of a woman. He imagined that firm curved body below him, his fingers twisting in her flaxen hair, slowly fading from blonde to white.

Helgena straightened up and ran her hands seductively over her statuesque curves as she smoothed out her gown; she was no fool and knew Lorcan viewed her with lust. He might not have the lank hair and unfit body of Jack MacHyde, or his sire, but the leer in his face clearly identified him as a member of that family. She wondered who his mother must have been, Hyde obviously felt he had carnal rights over any women on his land. How many more bastards had he left behind?

Lorcan continued his lasciviousness assessment of her body. His waste of a brother had sampled her pleasures many times, as had Hyde, their father. His eyes narrowed. He had been denied the claim on his sire's name for much too long. He silently cursed Kerik Greysteinn for rescuing the helpless noble-bred Grainne, not the poor milkmaid who equally suffered at Hyde's meaty hands. Anything that the Hyde father-and-son had enjoyed in their sorry, greedy, lives, he wanted as well. That would include Helgena of Jarlshof. When Helgena was finished with the Greysteinns, he would claim his dead brother's betrothed. By that time Anna of RathSteele would be Kristr Greyteinn's grieving widow.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks Wattle, and DreamsofValhalla. As always, love your stories, wish I had your skill!

* * *

Chapter 6

RathSteele was again a flurry of activity as preparations were made for a sailing voyage. At the start of Spring, it had been Raymond who were travelling to Dubh Linn to try and find Anna.

This time, he was staying, but seeing his daughter leave him again was bittersweet. He trusted Kristr, and even grudgingly admired the man who taught his daughter how to defend herself. Quietly Raymond had watched him give her a lesson each day, filled with remorse and memories. Remorse for letting his grief over Breda dictate Anna's life. Memories of his wife, a mythical Celtic warrior princess, if there ever was one. He watched Anna learn to lunge and evade, deflect and attack. If it was not for the shorter hair and the mix of language she currently used, from afar it may as well have been Breda at that age.

Casting his eye over the men and women working on the land, he saw the dark eyed, olive skinned Joseph in deep conversation with Kristr. The subject was obviously over hurling, judging by the swinging and hooking motions of his eldest child. His thoughts moved from his daughter to his son. Joseph planned to sail with his family-by-marriage. The purpose was twofold. Firstly, he knew his son and heir would not be content until he had seen Anna's marital home for himself. Secondly, by acting as a member of the crew on the Greysteinn ship, he would prove his loyalty to Kristr as a brother. Joseph was not Raymond's natural son, but uncannily shared his father's obsession with Anna's safety. It had taken Joseph a while to come around to the Northmen, but his son was nothing if not forgiving, when it was due.

It was agreed that Kerik's vessel, Dragon Maelstrom, would be used to sail back and Kristr's ship, would be left at Rathsteele, since MacHyde had burned all Raymond's seaworthy boats, including two currachs when they had raided. The loss of the currachs had been especially difficult. The narrow hulled rowboats moved effortlessly through the deeper waters of the open mouth of the lough when fishing, but they could also sail close to the coast for stealth, if necessary. Raymond had initially rejected the offer, but Kristr insisted that it would be considered as payment for the upkeep and education of the Norse foster children. His trading and negotiation skills were well matched with his father-by-marriage; Raymond did not concede easily, and Kristr saw the Chieftain who raised Anna, not the father who worried about his daughter's every move.

* * *

Kristr was content to be going back home to see his brother and sister. It was too long since he smelled the cold pine air of the north. He bounced the sliotar on the caman, the ball giving a reassuring soft thud-thud-thud as the momentum decreased. 'When you arrive with us Joseph, you know that Catherine will likely be preparing to marry my brother.'

Joseph smiled. 'So I gather from Anna.' He scooped the sliotar off Kristr's caman and bounced the hard stitched leather ball, the years of practice evident as he deftly flicked his wrist, keeping the ball aloft. 'She deserves to be happy. She and I would not have had a loving marriage. However, you know that her brother Emmett will want to come too.'

'I suppose it is not unreasonable that her male kin should see that she is happy also. I would want the same for my sister. If Emmett intends to take his father's place, then he should meet with Kerik.' Kristr thought of his own vibrant sister, not yet ready to be a wife and mother. He chuckled to himself as he thought of her, leading her own bride-price negotiation.

'When you sailed into the channel with Anna on the boat, you were lucky it was I, as Anna's brother who took you captive off the ship. I beat you up, but he would have killed you. His blood is icy cold.'

Kristr gave a hollow laugh. 'If you recall, Brother, I did not fight back. You were to be my kin.' He slapped Joseph on the back. 'Come, let us find these men who wish to discuss the future of your former betrothed.'

* * *

Emmett was still distrusting of the Norsemen. Joseph had forewarned that Emmett had sworn vengeance on any many who harmed his sister. As yet, he only had words indicating Catherine was happy, and this was not enough for him. Sitting down opposite Kerik, with Kristr, Raymond,Joseph and the Jarls in attendance, his composure was like stone. 'So, Kerik Greysteinn of Halsarfjord, your son Ellrik wants my sister in marriage? Do you expect a dowry after you stole her from us?'

Kerik did now show any fear at Emmett's attempt at intimidation. 'Under normal circumstances, of course I would. But I know my son will waive this payment. However you have to remember in our society that Ellrik will provide a mundr, or bride-price, to your family as well, like Kristr did for Anna. That is what paid for the rebuilding of RathSteele.'

Emmett gripped the table. 'So are you insulting my father and I by saying we do not have the means to provide a dowry for Catherine?'

Kerik rolled his eyes at the young cub before him. The youth had a lot to learn before baring his teeth at civilised gatherings. Attendance at an Allthing would bring his temper into check. 'Thor's teeth, Irish, I am not saying that. What do you offer for your sister then?' He pointed to his son, 'Kristr here did not accept a dowry for Anna, acknowledging the payment instead as saxon wergild for taking her unlawfully from Raymond. Therefore, no coin transferred hands. On behalf of my son, I offer you the same terms for the fair Catherine.' Kerik knew that the wergild, or compensation that he offered was more than equivalent to the price of a dowry. Emmett did not need to know that the equivalent worth of silver would be set aside in the safe house for Catherine, should she ever need it.

He watched as the younger man listened intently, considering the offer. 'And what is this bride-price you speak of?'

'It is a payment of good faith from the groom to the bride's father, to evidence his wealth and that he will honour and protect his wife in her new life.' Kerik found it difficult to believe that women had so few rights in this country. 'Finally, after the marriage has been consummated, Ellrik will provide Catherine with a morning-gift, to thank her for making herself available to her new husband.'

'Kristr, did you do this?' Emmett demanded.

'Ja, I gave Anna a morning-gift to complete our marriage celebrations in your Christian faith, and when we complete our vows again in a Norse ceremony, I shall provide her with another.'

Emmett brushed his white blond hair out of his eyes, still cold and blue. 'I will not agree to anything until I see Catherine, and have her word that she is not being coerced.'

Kerik shrugged, 'As you wish. But know this, if you try to take Catherine against her will from my son, he will not take the affront lightly. Your sister has grown in confidence and beauty since she embraced our way of life.'

Emmett snorted, 'We shall see, Norse.'

* * *

Kristr left the hall to reflect on his own thoughts. He had enough of the bad tempered Emmett and the bride negotiations. Emmett would make a fine Chieftain over his own lands some day, but he lacked the insight even of Joseph, who was the same age. Emmett was fiercely loyal to his clan and his men, but loyalty without forethought would lead to problems in the future, if he could not learn to bend and flex to meet the best needs of his kin. Kerik had been unquestionably patient with him; allowing for his anger over the abduction of his sister, but if that truculence with the loud-voiced Jarl continued, he would find himself thrown overboard off the coast of Orkney.

In addition, there was the delicate matter of explaining to Raymond that he was going to be a grandfather within six or seven moons. The clan healer, a white haired woman so ancient she must have been alive during the times of the Romans, had advised Anna that she would birth around Norse Yuletide or Christian Christmas. Her belly was swelling very slightly; he hoped that Raymond would not want to challenge him to combat now, for taking Anna's maidenhead before marriage. Virginity was prized much more in this world than in his. Women were expected to be maidens until they wed, and then, as if there was some spell cast upon them, they were then expected to serve their husband's needs, without any education. How these Irish begat any children was a mystery to him

He hoped that the crossing would not be too difficult for Anna. Being with child was one of the most precious yet dangerous times for a wife. The joy of a birth was often overshadowed with a death. The sooner she was settled back at Halsarfjord and able to enjoy growing the life in her womb, the happier he would be. She would be well protected there. If Helgena came near the east coast of Scandinavia, she would be called before the Allthing to answer to her crimes. There should now be peace in both Halsarfjord and in Rathsteele.

As he stomped over the fields, the sweet smelling earth yielding under his heavy footsteps, releasing the tension from his limbs, he turned his mind to another union. Kristr was looking forward to his brother's wedding. Despite Emmett's frosty intentions, there would be a wedding, and a feast. Catherine would make a fine Jarl's wife, even before they had left to rescue Anna, her knowledge of the language and their culture was substantial.

* * *

The seas were calm as Helgena and Lorcan made their way down the west coast of Albion, before sailing over the open seas to Jutland. It would not be long until they reached the royal settlement of Jelling. Her former foster child who lived there would pay his debt owed. He would not sacrifice his privileged position in the court of King Gorm and his wife Thryre by denying her the coin she believed was hers.

She was curious as to why Lorcan did not like Kristr. They shared no blood, the only common ground between them was a legitimate brother; MacHyde had sired Lorcan and Jack MacHyde, whereas Grainne had birthed Kristr five years after her first born, Jack.

Men, she thought. They spilled their seed wherever and whenever they pleased, leaving bastards in their wake. With the help of an old crone from the kingdom of the Picts, she made sure that her first pregnancy would be her last. After the painful procedure to end the intrusion in her womb, the gnarled old woman had assured her that by taking certain herbs, she would never birth children.

That had been the desired effect until she saw Kristr grow into a tall strong determined man. In her mind it had been all planned out. She still had montly flows, and they could make nearly-pure Viking sons. A girl child would not interest her; she would have it killed before Kristr could claim it as his. She had not taken any herbs for three moons, waiting on him to visit. When he did, he brought that Halfling with him, and rejected her. She failed to take Anna from Kristr; his love for that tiny Irish woman had proven too strong. On reflection, she had arranged for the abduction of the wrong person. She would have Kristr, and she would use him to father her a boy child, with or without his consent. Only when she was ripe with Kristr's seed would she succumb to Lorcan's advances.

'What do smile at, Helgena?' Lorcan pulled on the oars, the effort barely registering on his face. Thanks to his lazy brother, he was well able to hold his own on the seas or in battle.

'Revenge.' Her smile widened, but did not reach her expressionless eyes. 'Same as you. Although I cannot see what revenge you seek against Kristr Greysteinn, other than he killed your brother.'

'He did me a great favour by ridding me of my revered brother.' He spat the words, and continued rowing, his sinewy muscles rippling under his thin linen tunic. 'Kristr Greysteinn's life should have been mine. If Kerik the Viking had come across my mother, Elish, rather than the delicate noble-bred Grainne, then she would have birthed me with Kerik. Instead my mother was subjected to the advances of MacHyde, as his whore. When he brought his black haired brat back from Anglesey, the boy cried for days on end, and my mother did her best to comfort him. I was four summers old and two years later I was given to my older brother as his companion. What a way to thank my mother for her kindness! I served the spoilt lazy waste of seed, and now I deserve payment. Firstly, from Hyde, my father for taking me from my mother. Secondly from Kerik Greysteinn for ignoring my mother's cries for help, and thirdly from my odious brother, MacHyde. He especially owes me for being practically a slave to him for the past score of years.'

Helgena laid back against the hull of the boat, her thoughts lazily drifting to a naked Kristr, his strong body, bound and helpless before her, begging her for release from the chains and from his desire. Resistance would be futile, he would soon be as docile and compliant as when she had started to train him. Shaking herself from her daydream, she questioned her companion again. 'So, Lorcan MacHyde, what do they owe you? Your brother is dead, he cannot pay.'

Lorcan stopped rowing and the boat bobbed gently on the waves. 'My share of land, my share of coin, and my share of a wife.'

* * *

please continue with your reviews and PMs - I know where I want to go, but it is the scenic route. Each chapter I research takes me off on a tangent into history. Great for me, but not for you!


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks for reading, and thanks to DragonLady039, I appreciate your support!

1. light lemon ahead.

2. Literary licence taken with historical records for reading pleasure.

* * *

Chapter 7

The preparations were well underway for the feast, the final one before the Northmen left for Halsrafjord again. RathSteele was a flurry of activity; at least three different meats were prepared for roasting in the fulacht fia, the fire pit, and enough casks of ale to drown a Roman legion were currently being set up in the hall.

Raymond was not in a feasting mood. Choosing to expend his energy by adding to the wood pile, he chopped and hacked at the dried seasoned branches from the previous year. He was doing his best not to let a cloud fall over his head, or on the upcoming festivities. His precious children would be leaving him tomorrow. What would the Vikings make of Joseph, with his exotic looks, almost Moorish or Arabic in appearance, yet every bit an Irishman in language, demeanour and actions. Joseph had never questioned his origins other than what he knew about being a shipwreck survivor, and Raymond had never thought of him as anything but a son. He sighed as he thought of his children. Anna was strong in spirit and had shown her mettle, so much like her mother. He also noticed that Joseph no longer carried the pained expression when his marriage to Catherine was discussed. Now that the betrothal was dissolved, he hoped his son would find a wife soon.

'Papa!' Anna's voice shook him from his daydreams. With a sharp downstroke he lodged the hatchet in the chopping stump, and rested his back against the wood pile, and studied his daughter approaching, walking hand in hand with her husband. Her husband. Raymond realised the symbolism of giving his daughter away in marriage. She was a Greysteinn now. Curious about their stilted movements, he wondered why on earth the pair looked so sheepish this morning.

'Papa, before we sail, we have some news that we wish to share with you.' Raymond's heart lurched. The words 'we' and 'news' never went well together; a further reminder that Anna was no longer his.

'Yes, Daughter. What is on your mind?' She was holding her husband's hand tighter. It was his finger that she grasped as an infant, his hand that she had taken as she learned to walk, his arms that she fell into when she grazed her knee or fought with Joseph. And now, he was no longer the most important person in her life.

'I, I am to have a baby.'

He stood up much too quickly, dizzy as the blood rushed to his head, cords of wood slithering down the pile to the ground. 'A what?' They had not been married a full moon and she believed she was with child. His eyes narrowed at Kristr. Him. He made his precious Anna think like this. Raymond knew rationally that as a husband Kristr had conjugal rights over a wife, but this was not any wife, this was his Anna. The bawdy talk of the evening two nights previously was just that – talk. He had jested with Kristr about making babies, but did not want to dwell on the actions that led to the creation of life.

'No, no, it is too soon.' He started to pace. 'You have not been married long enough.' He saw that look the pair just exchanged! He knew what it meant. That bastard Kristr had his way with Anna before they were married. The next moments passed in a blur as he raised his fist and punched his son-by-marriage square on the jaw.

'Papa!' He could barely hear Anna's shocked, reprimanding tone.

'You! You Viking! How dare you to that to my daughter! My precious little girl! Stand so that I may run you through by your manhood you vile letch! You ravisher of women!' Through his mist of anger he could barely see his red-headed son-by-marraige, who did not even appear to be shamed by the accusations.'

'Papa! Stop it! Kristr is my husband and he has done nothing wrong.' Raymond glared at this taker of virtue, who calmly kissed his wife and whispered into her ear. She nodded, got up, returned his chaste kiss with a smile, and left the hall.

'My Chieftain.' Kristr finally spoke. 'Anna is my wife now, you gave me her hand in marriage, and she is to have a child. Your grandchild. I could not be happier now than to know I will be a father. I want to keep her well, healthy and as soon as she is hale and hearty after the birth, I will bring her and your grandchild to visit. He, or she will be half Irish, and deserves to know of their bloodline.' Raymond moved forward to speak, but Kristr raised his hand, a request for a continuation.

'I give you my word that I will care for her to the very best of my ability, but you also have to give me your word that you will not come between our union, that has been blessed by your God. She loves you dearly, and you will always be her Papa, but now she has completed the journey from girl to woman, from maiden to mother.' He paused. 'From daughter to wife.'

Raymond slumped in his chair. 'I will miss her so much.'

'I know, my Chieftain, but it is time for her to live her own life, to carry on her proud family line. To make her father, and mother proud.' He finally accepted the handshake offered by Kristr. Moving on would not be easy.

* * *

It was with mixed emotions that the small crew set sail the next morning. The previous evening Kerik and Emmett had arrived at a fragile truce. Kerik had given a sullen Emmet instructions on what he should bring with him for Catherine's dowry arrangements. Whilst still not happy with the marriage, he had expressed to Kerik that would not shame his sister, if this union was what she truly desired.

With Kristr's arms around her shoulders, Anna stared down the lough at her home until it disappeared from view and they were on the open water. With the bright summer weather and the fair winds, the Dragon Maelstrom sailed smoothly along the normally rough waters of West Albion. Joseph was taking every opportunity to practice his language skills, and the Norse were only happy to oblige.

'Will we stop at Jarlshof this time?' Anna remembered too well what happened on the other two occasions they had stopped there and her treatment at the hands of Helgena.

'Nei, we shall sail on through. I am keen to get home to see how the happy couple will take the news of their nuptials.'

'It is pagan, will it be very different to our ceremony?'

Kristr frowned in thought. 'Some things are very different, but others are the same.' He did not want to tell her of the animals that were ritually slaughtered for blessings of fertility; he would keep to the traditions she might understand. 'For example, the bride and groom are separated before the wedding, and are given advice on married life.' He gave a chuckle. 'And generally the father of the bride does not try to punch the groom. I do not think that Irish custom is a good one. '

She gave him a friendly punch on the arm before tiptoeing up and kissing his jawline the faint trace of a bruise remaining. 'That is not a custom, that is just my father.'

'And, he continued, we do have a wedding feast for the bride and groom – with as much noise, merriment and singing as was at ours.'

'Are you sad that you did not have a Norse wedding ceremony?'

'Not especially, but I would like to renew our vows in our sacred grove, where three yew trees meet. It does not have to be carried out in front of the whole gathering, but if your family and mine could be there, I would be happy. Perhaps after Ellrik and Catherine's wedding.' Anna smiled in agreement. It would be perfect.

A crowd had gathered to greet the ship as it arrived into Halsarfjord. Seeing a radiant Catherine on the shore's edge, a proud Ellrik standing with his arm around her waist, Anna knew that nothing had changed between her sister and Ellrik. Turning to Joseph and Emmett, she advised, 'This is very different to our own world. I have seen it twice before. Just observe, and you,' she poked Emmett playfully in the chest, 'behave yourself. Remember who you are here, and why.'

Emmett rolled his eyes in disgust. 'And you,' returning her light jab to her shoulder, 'might be a married woman, now but you will always be the same stubborn little baby boar to me. Have some faith, baby boar!'

Joseph chuckled at the exchange. 'Aye, Mistress Greysteinn. We, your humble Irish kin, will not let you down.' He glanced at Emmett and continued, 'Let you take heed of our Baby Boar, lest she finds a Norse woman to keep you in check!'

'Bah!' Anna snorted, and returned to her view of assembled crowd, waving excitedly to Catherine and Maria.

* * *

Gertrude stood at the dockside, with a horn of ale in her hand; Maria and Catherine stood behind her, one bearing goblets, the other an ewer.

Kerik disembarked first, and took the offering from his wife. He was followed by Kristr and Anna. The ceremony was interrupted by Gertrude's unexpected hug to Anna, followed by laughter, smiles and an adjustment to her tightening kirtle.

'Woman, what are you doing?' Kerik boomed at his wife, 'It has not been that long since you saw our tiny Anna.'

'Nei, Husbondi, look.' She turned a blushing Anna to face her father-by-marraige. Holding her gently by she shoulders, Gertrude displayed her to Kerik. 'She is with child.'

Kerik stopped, tilted his head and looked at Anna appraisingly. She felt his gaze burning through her, before he broke into a wide smile, and picked her up, swinging her around. A grandchild? 'Kristr! Why did you not tell me before now? 'He slapped his son on the back, 'Aha! The strong Greysteinn seed continues our proud Norse line.' Anna glanced up at Kristr; the reactions between their fathers could not have been more different.

As the couple were congratulated by the family, and the ale ceremony was forgotten, Anna finally found her voice to remind Kristr that there were still other people on the ship.

She smiled in genuine joy as Catherine greeted her brother, tears falling down her face. It was obvious how much Emmett cared for his little sister, holding her tight, dropping a kiss on the crown of her head. She did not hear what they said, but whatever Emmett asked as he ran his finger around her Norse hair circlet, Catherine nodded shyly. He seemed to agree with her decision, and released her from the hug. She then directed her attention to Joseph. Again, the joy and relief that the pair shared with their chaste embrace confirmed that they were both happy with the change in their fortunes.

Maria clapped her hands in glee, 'We have two things to celebrate this eve! A birth and a wedding.' Anna laughed at her new sister. Her green eyes danced from the white-blond Emmett to the dark Joseph and back again. She looked like a child made to make a decision between honeyed apples or fresh cloudberries.

Ellrik stepped forward and gently chided his sister. 'There is no confirmation of a wedding yet.' He looked toward his father and Emmett. 'We need to meet to discuss the handsal, the agreement of marriage.'

* * *

In Kristr's hall, the men gathered; Kerik, Ellrik, Kristr, Johan, Taylr, Joseph and Emmett. Normally there would be six witnesses to the event, but on this occasion, a smaller number would suffice. The formalities began, with Ellrik speaking first.

'Emmett, as you are aware, I wish to marry Catherine. I am the groom and future Jarl  
of Halrasfjord, and as the mundr, the bride-price I offer 50 markur of silver for her hand along with a morning gift of my choice.' Ellrik laid the silver on the table. He then repeated the words of his father. 'As we took Catherine from her family without permission, we are prepared to waive the heiman tyglia, what you call a dowry.'

It was Emmett's turn to speak, translated by Joseph, eager to use his new skills. 'On the guidance on my father I have brought a dowry for Catherine, a share of our family's wealth. He laid a small bar of gold on the table. This will be Catherine's dowry on the understanding that if the marriage fails or she becomes a widow, this will be returned to her to provide for her and any children she may bear.' He brought forward a sword. 'I bring my father's sword for Catherine. I understand that she will give this to her future husband as a symbol of transfer of protection from father,' his eyes narrowed slightly, 'or brother, to her spouse.'

Ellrik looked to his father, and gave a slight nod. His father, quiet for once, returned the gesture with a smile. Standing up before the other four men the future groom offered his outstretched hands to Emmett and gave the traditional Norse speech.

'I, Ellrik Greysteinn declare that you, Emmett of DunCavan bond me in lawful bethrothal to your sister, Catherine of DunCavan, and with taking hold of my hands you promise me the dowry and engage to fulfil and observe the whole of this agreement between us which has been notified in the hearing of these witnesses, without duplicity or cunning, as a real and lawful agreement.'

There was a brief pause before Emmett stood up and grasped Ellrik's hands. A cheer went up from the men. The handsal was agreed. Both Ellrik and Emmett took back their offers of payment until the time of the wedding. In the morning, messengers would be sent up and down the coast, extending invitations to the Jarls and the families. The wedding would be held on the first Freya's Day or Friday, after the full moon.

Kristr stepped out of the hall, and looked at the current waning moon high in the clear starry sky. It would be little over a fortnight before his brother wed. He hoped that Ellrik would be as content in married life as he was, although he was still a novice at being a husband, and father-to-be. The other five men followed him out across to the main hall. Now it was time for the natmal, the evening meal.

* * *

Anna looked around the assembled hall. This was her home now, and she felt at ease amongst these people.

First of all she looked at Kerik. As usual, he was in full overloud flow as he boasted of the bravery of both his sons, in their bravery of rescuing Anna, pausing for a moment as he reminded the assembly that Helgena of Jarlshof was at large, and at the next yearly Allthing would be declared an outlaw if she was not captured before then. Gertrude sat at his side, alternatively laughing at his humour and chiding him when his language became too boisterous. Anna hoped she could be that kind of mate and companion to Kristr. As she felt her husband's hand curl around her waist, she smiled to herself. They would find their own way.

Secondly, she looked to Catherine and Ellrik. The joy was evident on both their faces, now that the handsal, the betrothal, had been agreed formally. She watched as they stared into each other's eyes, not aware of anyone else in the hall. They deserved nothing but happiness in their lives; the expression on Ellrik's face had barely changed towards Catherine since that first day when he roused her from her unconscious faint with water and sweet words.

Finally, she looked to the youngest of the Greysteinn family. Maria. She was flitting between Joseph and Emmett, like a bee buzzing between two blossoms. Anna chuckled to herself at the idea of the two Chieftains in training being compared to delicate flowers. Both seemed interested in what she had to say, but this was Maria, after all. They would never have met anyone like her before; lively, forthright and exuberant. Anna wished she could listen to their conversations; actually, knowing Maria, her sister would give her a detailed account by the morning.

Kissing Kristr on the cheek, she whispered to him that she was retiring for the evening. 'I will see you in our chamber, husband of mine.' Wiggling her backside against his thigh, she left the hall, swaying her hips with each step, knowing the love of her life watched her every move and would follow her soon.

* * *

She was sitting on the bed, with a fur around her shoulders. He pulled the curtain to cover the chamber door.

'Kneel.' Kristr glared when she dared to look at him, her clear eyes meeting his stare as she took her position. 'Eyes down to the ground! You do not have permission to look your Master in the eye.' She lowered her gaze.

He came and stood in front of her, his tall form casting a shadow over her small body. 'Why is your hair not in a braid? '

'I... I did not think you would mind Kristr.'

'You. Did. Not. Think?' He leaned over, pinched her nipple and she winced in pain. 'What is my name?'

'Kr... awhhhhh, Master.' She corrected herself.

'Good. Now, what is your name?'

'I.. I do not have a name, Master. I am your slave.' She was finally learning.

'I will not tolerate this kind of insolence from my slave. Do you hear me?' He walked behind her and yanked her glossy brown hair into a bunch, dividing it into three and plaiting it quickly. When he finished he tugged her head right back and kissed her firmly, not a kiss of passion, a mark of ownership.

Kristr got up and moved to the chest by the bed furs. Picking up a strip of leather he ordered his slave to raise her head. 'Do you know what this is?'

'A collar, Master' she whispered, her eyes meeting his for a fleeting second before she remembered her place.

He wrapped the leather around her neck, threading a lace through the five holes at each end of the strip, before securing the lace with two different tight knot. He smirked in pleasure as he heard her give a small gasp, when she put her hand to touch the offending evidence of property.

'Stand.' He smiled when she did not hesitate, or look at him.

He towered over her, bringing himself to full height. 'Now, Slave, undress me.' She faltered and he slapped her hard on her backside. 'Now!'

She slowly started to remove his garments, releasing the ties of his tunic, standing on her tiptoes to pull it over his head. He pointed to his feet. 'Boots.' She obeyed as she unbuttoned his sealskin shoes, and started to unwrap the criss-cross bindings that held up his leggings, and they slid to the floor, exposing his cock, rapidly growing from beneath its darkened hood, until it was proud and erect.

'Crawl over here now slave, and pleasure me with your mouth. Do not use your hands or I will chain them.' He settled himself on the furs to savour his pleasure. He watched as she greeted his manhood by rubbing her soft cheek against him,greeting him with the soft skin of her beautful innocent face, the warmth of her breath giving a tantalising taste of what was to come. She licked slowly up the full length of his shaft, brushing her tongue back and forward against the tender join of skin at its head. He hissed in pleasure when she lapped the first sweet drops of juice, as if she were a woman dying of thirst. She moaned softly, the light reverberations of her voice sending tremors of ecstasy through his entire body.

He was not going to last much longer, staring down in a mixture of awe and lust and she smiled and took him into her warm sweet mouth. Fisting his hands in her hair to keep her close, he closed his eyes to enjoy the build. 'Who is your Master, slave?'

The muffled voice came back, 'Kristr.' He did not care that she called him by his name. He was enjoying his little slave's ministrations.

'Kristr?' The voice was clearer now.

'Kristr? Are you well?' His slave was shaking him by the shoulder.

His eyes flew open to see his wife standing over him, a worried expression on her face. 'Were you dreaming?' He threw his arm over his eyes and groaned loudly. 'Was it a nightmare?'

How could he dream of his Anna like that? She was his pure sweet wife. 'A nightmare? Sweetling, I am not sure.'

* * *

references: vikinganswerlady dot com


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you for reading. I have taken literary licence here to make it a bit easier to read for our modern sensitivies, but please, if you find this interesting, please check out the amazing site vikinganswerlady dot com or the US site, pbs dot org

A special thanks to TinaDHansen :)

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Chapter 8

Maria's squeal of delight would have woken the ancestors from Halsrafjord and RathSteele both. Gertrude had advised Anna and Maria, that with two days to go until the wedding, it was time to start Catherine's bridal planning.

It was not long after day break that the three women arrived in Catherine's chamber to commence her preparations. Ellrik sat up and protested at the early start of the day, not wanting his future wife to leave the warmth of their bed. Maria shooed her older brother away, before Anna and Gertrude quickly dressed the future bride, covering her head and shoulders with a white linen hood, laughing as they led Catherine from the chamber.

For the next day Catherine would be confined to spend time only with the women, sequestered away from any man who might try to steal her for themselves, or from an over-amorous groom. The first day they spent in the weaving room, making the final preparations to her bridal clothing.

Conversation mostly involved teasing Catherine about the expectations of married life, and instructions on how to keep her husband under control. Anna had observed that in Norse society, men and women were more equal than Ireland, but it was still the man who was master of the hall. Gertrude explained that it just took a little negotiation and subtlety on the woman's part to bend her husband's mind to her own way of thinking. They laughed when Gertrude shared her wisdom on the best places to go about this; either on the bed furs or during his favourite meal. The idea of the loud, hulking Kerik yielding to the wishes of the graceful Gertrude was both charming and amusing.

'Madir,' Anna used the Norse word; in this society, Gertrude was her mother now, and Anna was honoured to use the term of respect. 'Does your husband know that you do this?'

Gertrude giggled as if she were a newlywed of twenty summers. 'Nei, Dottir. It is a skill that takes some time to learn. We always must respect our husbands, but sometimes they need a little encouragement to make the right decision. If they believe that they have made the decision of their own free will, then we have succeeded as wives.'

Catherine looked up from her embroidery on the bodice of her wedding dress. 'I cannot ever imagine Ellrik making a poor decision. He is so perfect in all ways.'

Anna burst out laughing and looked at Gertrude. 'Sister, darling, I have only been married for a moon and a half, and even I understand our Madir's advice.'

Catherine gave them a look of disbelief. 'Well, it shall be different for Ellrik and I.' Turning to the youngest Greysteinn, she said, 'surely you agree with me, Maria. Ellrik is perfect, is he not?'

Maria was uncharacteristically quiet. 'I love my brothers dearly, but even I know that they are not perfect,' she gave a low chuckle. 'I need to learn about all the ways of husbands, so that I can create my own perfect man from all the wisdom shared this day.'

'Dottir Maria, if there was ever a maiden alive who could create the perfect husband, it should be you.' Gertrude dropped a kiss on her youngest child's forehead.

'Pah! As the baby of the family he will have to already be perfect to meet with approval of the other men in my life, and that means your, your, and your husband.' She pointed at Gertrude, Anna and Catherine with each 'your'.

To prevent Ellrik seeing his bride, the natmal was brought from the main hall to the weaving room, and when night came, they swathed Catherine in furs and sheets, hiding her face and body from Ellrik, lest his lust get the better of him before the men took him for his own groom's ritual.

The second day, the morning of the wedding was spent in the bath house. Gertrude had explained the ceremony to Catherine and Anna, but it was obvious that Catherine was still nervous. Once in the sweat house, the fire was lit, and when the room was warm, Anna helped the others undress Catherine from her dress, and lifted off her precious hair circlet. She would never wear either again; a symbolic change of her status, Catherine might not have been a maiden, but the dress and hairstyle of an unmarried woman was no longer appropriate. Gertrude handed her circlet to Anna who carefully wrapped it in a piece of silk, before slipping it into a linen drawstring bag.

Gertrude advised, 'This will be given to your first born daughter, if Freya blesses you.'

As Maria threw water on the hot stones, the steam spitting and hissing, the room became warmer, and all sat in silence for a moment, enjoying the heat. With a cake of scented soap, and new linen cloths, all three women took turns in washing Catherine's hair and body, the ritual cleansing away her old life, leaving her pure for her new path as a wife.

Catherine finally seemed to relax. 'Are you enjoying this?' enquired Anna.

'Yes,' she sighed.' 'Do you remember being scrubbed by thralls in Jarlshof?' Anna nodded. Whilst she would never forget the humiliation of being nude in front of other women for the first time, she would always remember being washed by the tender hands of Gertrude and the almost religious ministrations of Kristr the night after he had claimed her as his.

Finally, Catherine was rinsed in cool water, fragrant with oils and herbs, the heady exotic scents from faraway places mixing with the steam. She was carefully dressed in a light woollen dress of deep blue, bringing out the glorious colour of her eyes, her white-blonde hair dazzling agaist the rich hue of the robe. Gertrude had excelled in her dressmaking skills. The cut skimmed over her still-tiny waist and curved hips, with just enough of a neckline to hint at Catherine's ample breasts. This slight exposure nuanced at the generosity beneath; that she would nourish her own children. Next, a creamy apron dress in fine-spun linen was draped over the kirtle, and was fixed in place with two silver brooches, a blend of twisting Celtic knots around the runic symbol 'Berkano' that looked like a Roman letter B. It symbolised Idun the goddess of Spring, and again, fertility.

As Gertrude brushed Catherine's hair, she asked for her circlet. 'No, Dottir. Today is the last day of your hair being unbound in public.' Anna already knew of this tradition; it was the same for Christian women. Maria presented her with a bridal crown, made of sacred yew branches and foliage.

There was one more item to complete Catherine's bridal ensemble. Gertrude presented her with the keys to hall and buildings. She fastened the chain from which the keys dangled to her brooch over her left breast. 'Catherine, as a married woman and wife of the future Jarl, I offer you the keys of the hall in acknowledgment of your status within the Greysteinn family.'

Catherine fingered the keys reverently. 'Thank you. I accept.'

* * *

Two days earlier, Ellrik threw himself back onto his bed in disgust. He had wished to bed his future wife one last time before the women, clucking like hens had come in and taken her away. Maria his sister even had the audacity to shoo at him, as if he were a tom, looking for a cat in heat. He groaned as he looked at his own manhood. Maria was probably right in her assumption.

His noisy father was stomping down the hall. How that highly skilled warrior ever achieved anything by stealth was a mystery to Ellrik.

'Be gone, father! The women have already come for Catherine and I need some time alone before I can join you.'

Unbidden, Kerik launched himself into the room. 'Get up now, Son.' He eyed his son's naked body. 'You are not the first man to wake up in the morning hard as a rock and unsated, and trust me, you will not be the last.' Sticking his head out of the room he yelled for the others to join him.

Cursing his father, he pulled on a tunic and struggled into leggings before other men arrived into his room. 'You need not think I shall forget this,' he grumbled, as he followed Kerik out to see Kristr, Joseph, Emmett and Taylr, dressed for a day's hunt. He glared at the Irish men. This was their first experience of a Viking Grooms-ritual, and by the excited expressions on their faces, they were looking forward to experiencing another culture. Normally only married men were permitted to attend, but Ellrik was more than happy to merge his traditions with Catherine's.

Setting off into the woods for a hunt, Kerik proceeded to lecture his son loudly on the expected events of the upcoming day, and the wedding on Freya's day, the following morning. Ellrik knew he would be expected to kill a boar, and before it died, slit its throat in sacrifice and catch the blood so as to be used in a fertility blessing over himself, his bride and the assembled guests. The boar would then be served at the wedding feast along with mutton and pheasant.

'Blood?' queried Emmett, 'You are going to use sacrificed animal blood in a ritual with my sister?' Pulling the reins of his horse, bringing it to a halt, his icy demeanour was back again 'No. I will not permit my sister to be part of this unholy action.'

Kerik went to speak, but Ellrik interrupted his father. This was his wedding, neither Kerik's nor Emmett's. 'This is our way, and is sacred to us. You do not know of what you speak.' Ellrik had already discussed this with Catherine and their agreement was that a drop of blood would be included in the ceremonial bowls of mead, and this would be used instead. An animal had given its life to feed and provide sustenance for their guests; it was only a mark of respect to the spirit of the creature that the blessing of new life should be celebrated in its death.

'Besides, Emmett, 'Ellrik continued, 'think of your own Christian ceremony. Your Saviour sacrificed himself for the world. You believe in noble sacrament of Communion, the body and blood of Lord Jesus within your own faith. I will never prevent Catherine from practicing her religion, or visiting places that are sacred to her.' He clicked to his horse to move on. He would marry Catherine with or without Emmett's blessing.

* * *

On the ride home, it was agreed that the men would spend the night in the hall, after visiting the bath house. He knew that it would be Catherine's turn in the morning. Once in there, Ellrik knew that he would be symbolically stripped of his clothes and washed of his old unmarried life by his father.

'Kristr, you are already married, but pay heed to the advice I give your brother.'

'Fadir, I think Ellrik, myself and even Raymond of RathSteele could hear your advice.' Kristr smirked. His father could never keep his voice low.

'Anyway, sons, as I was saying,' Kerik ignored his son, 'when you have a woman, or two women, who love you, there is nothing more in this life that makes you happier.' He paused as he thought of his own relationship with his beloved Grainne, Kristr's mother, and Gertrude, Ellrik's mother and his wife of twelve summers. 'Women like to pretend that you are in charge of your fate, but make no mistake,' he raised his finger in full lecture flow, 'they are the backbone of your hall and your life. Their word is law, and it will serve you well to remember this.'

The men returned to Kristr's hall, leading a stumbling Ellrik, his form hidden under a ship's sail, lest his bride see him and beguile him to bed. After many horns of ale, and various words of wisdom from Kerik, or rather wisdom according to Kerik, the men finally took some rest. Just as Catherine was being dressed by the women, he would be prepared for marriage by the men. His grooms clothes and weapons had been laid out for him. When dressed in his grey wool leggings and scarlet tunic, Kristr placed a sword into Kerik's outstretched arms.

'Ellrik Greysteinn, I present to you the sword of your ancestors. May you give this precious item to your wife as a token of your protection and loyalty until your own son marries, should you be blessed.' Ellrik accepted the sword, and placing it into its sheath he fixed it to his belt.

Kerik then proffered a hammer to his son. 'Ellrik Greysteinn, I present to you a representation of Thor's hammer to show your strength of character and may the blessings of Thor be bestowed on you throughout your union.'

Again Ellrik accepted the ceremonial weapon from his father. Both items would be used in the wedding ritual; he would call on Thor to bless Catherine's womb with strong children before the feast began.

* * *

He was nervous as he left Kristr's hall; the crowds had assembled along the path towards the family's sacred grove of three yew trees. Already standing there was the young son of Thorkell, the blacksmith. He carried the sword brought by Emmett. He waited with his young squire, and gasped in amazement when he saw Catherine walking towards him, Anna, Maria and Gertrude following her. He watched as she gave a small smile to her women kin, and mouthed words of thanks, before she bowed to him. He returned the gesture, and led by the boy proudly bearing the sword, they proceeded to the grove, decorated with blue and red sashes entwined through the trees. A small table and simple altar were laid with the items for their ceremony.

Once there, Emmett stepped forward with the gold for Catherine's dowry, and placed it on a small table set for the occasion. In return, Ellrik stepped forward with the silver for the mundr, his bride-price to her family. The price agreed, the bride and groom stepped forward towards the small altar built of stones. Kerik, as the celebrant of the union, took the first bowl of mead, with the single drop of boar's blood from the previous day. He dipped a bunch of yew twigs into the bowl and sprinkled the contents over the bride and groom, calling down blessings from Odin, Thor, Freya, Freyr and Idun, before repeating the gesture over the assembled guests.

The couple each completed two actions in the first stage of their religious union.

Catherine took her father's sword from the boy and handed it to Ellrik. It symbolised that her protection was no longer provided by the men of DunCaban, but by her husband, and was accepted by her new husband, with a wide grin, despite the solemnity of the occasion.

In return, Ellrik took his family's sword and handed it to Catherine. As Kerik had explained earlier, Catherine would keep the sword, the family heirloom , in a safe place until their own line married.

Ellrik lifted one of two silver bands from the altar, and placing it on the hilt of the DunCaban sword spoke 'I, Ellrik Greysteinn offer you Catherine of DunCaban this unending symbol of our union. I pass this ring to you in this manner, and give you my oath that the sacredness of our union will be protected by the sword, not divided by it.

Shedding a tear in happiness, Catherine's voice quivered as she returned the gesture, and placed a ring on Ellrik's finger.

A cheer went up from the crowd as a ecstatic Ellrik picked up his wife and carried her to the hall, making sure that he carried her over the threshold. They were followed in procession by the delighted guests as they entered the hall, the portal between worlds. By carrying her over the threshold without a trip, their union was complete. They had entered married life. He gave her a long slow sensual kiss, oblivious to the noise around him.

'I love you, wife.'

Her eyes were filled with tears of joy, and she answered him in his own language, 'And, husbondi, jeg elsker dig. I love you too.'

The feast could begin.

...


	9. Chapter 9

Hello all - ok, I've kind of got carried away with my educational research here, but if you want something a bit fluffier, in the throes of self-promotion, check out Secret Scribbler Steele (rating M for mmmmmmm)

* * *

Chapter 9

Catherine put her arms around Ellrik's neck as he strode up the hall with her in his arms. She giggled to herself as the realisation dawned on her that she was being carried bridal-style. The words had not made much sense to her before; she had not been to a wedding feast since she was a little girl when her cousin had wed a chieftain from the Dal Riada clan from the north east of Ulster.

'Do you have any regrets that the ceremony was pagan, my honey-pot?' Ellrik enquired. She shook her head. Just as Kristr had married Anna in the ritual of her home, she had married Ellrik under his laws. The religious ceremony had so many similarities with the Christian one. Protection of the woman passed from the father to the groom; rings of commitment were exchanged between the couple; the ceremony ended with a kiss. If she had married in Ireland, the religious solemnities would have followed with a feast, just like here. However in Halsrafjord there were a number of duties to fulfil prior to the feast, before their union was considered valid and legal.

Ellrik set her down, so that they could take their places at the top table, the trestles laid out in the shape of a 'U'. The guests settled, Catherine stood up, when she saw all eyes on her; she closed her eyes and composed herself. So far, all had gone well. Emmett had not created a scene, she had recited her vows in perfect Norse, and most importantly, she had been carried over the threshold by Ellrik without a trip or stumble.

She glanced down at her husband, his face raised expectantly, smiling in encouragement for her to complete her first duty as a wife. It was time to serve the ceremonial bride-ale to her husband She picked up the ornately carved silver bowl from the table, inhaling the rich yeasty smell of the ale; the delicate bubbly creamy head floating on the deep brown liquid below. Gertrude had begun brewing it in secret when Ellrik had first expressed his intentions to marry, and Catherine silently thanked her mother-by-marriage for her presumptiveness.

Taking a deep breath, she cleared her throat, hoping her voice did not show her nerves. She was to recite the formal verse, learned by heart. It had been recorded by the ancients, and she was continuing the tradition. Turning to Ellrik, the bowl cupped in her hands, she began,

Ale I bring thee, thou oak-of-battle

With strength blended and brightest honour

'Tis mized with magic and mighty songs

With goodly spells wish speeding runes

Ellrik stood and took the bowl from her, his much larger hands holding it easily. She gave a shy smile, as he held the bowl aloft and toasted Odin, the father of the gods. He took a long drink, a little ale pouring out over the sides and down his chin in his enthusiasm. Handing the half empty bowl back to her, she took her turn to hold it aloft. It was certainly easier now that it was a lot lighter, and she was not quite so worried about spilling the contents. She made a simple toast to Freya, the goddess of fertility and took her own drink of the bitter-sweet ale. It was also Freya's-day today, the normal day for weddings in Norse society. Finally, as encouraged by Ellrik, she thanked her own Lord Jesus for blessing her union, and offered a prayer to the Virgin Mary; the mother of Jesus held a very special place in the hearts and religion of the Irish.

She blushed as the crowd cheered, and preparing for the next ritual, she caught Anna's eye. They were now true sisters, in Irish, 'deirfiur', rather than 'siur'; the distinction had never seemed important before, but looking at Anna, she felt a wave of pride that their friendship now extended to sisterhood. Anna was glowing with her pregnancy now, and with the next blessing she prayed that she would join her sister in motherhood soon.

When she sat down, Ellrik picked up the ceremonial hammer that Kerik had given him that morning. Ellrik had made his toast to Odin, now he laid the symbol of Thor in her lap, ensuring that the hammer head touched her belly. The verse was to call upon Frigga, the goddess of childbearing to bless her womb.

I bring the hammer the bride to bless:

On the maiden's lap I lay the hammer

In Thor's name, may Freya our wedlock hallow!

Catherine could barely contain her happiness as Ellrik lifted the weapon and placed it reverently beside the ceremonial bowl of bride-ale. They would continue to drink ale and mead from this same bowl for one full moon hence – their honey-moon

The hushed silence of the assembly was finally broken, with a loud hurrah that nearly raised the rafters. Now the meal could be served.

The feasting continued well into the night. The ale and mead flowed freely with the result that there were plenty of toasts for the newlyweds and boasts against the assembled men, their lies and bragging getting louder and sillier as the evening progressed. Catherine had heard all about the aftermath of the RathSteele feast from Anna and was thankful that she would not be involved in the clear up. It was fun to be the bride.

She knew her feet would be sore in the morning; she had danced with virtually every man in attendance, each one hoping that her youth and beauty would bring them luck in their own lives. Although she was getting tired, she did not want the night to end, after all, she would only be a bride once. In the bath house the previous evening, one of the stories that Gertrude and Anna had told her was of the mock abduction by the groom, before they went to their chamber. When she saw Ellrik marching towards her, cheeks flushed with the heat of the hall she knew what to expect. Hanging upside down over Ellrik's broad shoulder she waved to her beaming women-folk, their inverted shapes getting smaller as he 'fought' his way down the hall

'I shall see you in the morning, all being well' she laughed, squealing in mock-outrage when he patted her behind with the flat of his sword, before finally crossing blades with Kerik, Kristr, Joseph and Emmett, and they stepped out over the threshold into the refreshingly cool night air.

* * *

Maria threw herself down on the ground between her mother and Anna. Her cheeks were flushed red from exertion and from a touch too much mead. The circlet on her head was barely holding back any hair, the black unruly curls escaping unchecked. She hugged her knees up to her chest, the gown tenting over her hunched shape.

'Are you well, Maria?' Gertrude asked, barely able to keep the amusement out of her voice. 'Have you taken a cup too many of mead?'

Maria gave an exasperated sigh, 'I promise I have not had too many cups.' She started to count, right thumb, forefinger, middle finger, ring finger, pinky, left thumb. 'Hmm, I think I have to re-cos-nider, Madir. I cannot promise that I have not had too many cups.' Gertrude merely raised an eyebrow, waiting for her daughter to work out the error in her statement. 'No, I definitely had too many.' She waved her hand in the direction of the Irish men. 'It is their fault. I had to be hospitable to both. I cannot decide which one is more handsome.'

'And has six cups of mead helped your decision?' Gertrude remembered being young once, but from age ten-and-six she was betrothed to Kerik. She did not have any difficult decisions to make. Kerik had chosen Gertrude over her more manipulative sister Helgena.

Maria hiccupped 'Nei, it has not helped. Emmett is so aloof, as if he were a prince created from the ice of Niflheim and I am sure there is a heart of fire beneath his skin.' Another hiccup. 'Yet Joseph is so charming. Anna, he is your brother, but I could melt into those deep brown eyes.' She twisted onto her knees and placed her head in Gertrude's lap. 'Madir, do you think Fadir would let me keep them both?' Gertrude tucked her daughter's hair gently back into her circlet. With a gentle laugh she chided her daughter, 'They are not pets, darling, and you cannot keep them. If you like both, then you must choose.'

Maria sniffled into her mother's lap. 'Maybe I shall think more clearly in the morning.' Gertrude stroked her daughter's hair whispering little affirmations of comfort. She looked at Anna who rubbed her growing belly. The pregnancy was showing against her gowns now.

'Dottir, it does not matter how old they get, whether they are a tiny infant of a day old, or a girl on the edge of womanhood. They will always be your child.' And she nodded towards Kristr, who was in mock battle with Kerik, 'it does not matter if you are a newlywed or a companion of twenty five summers, when you love your husband, they will always hold that special place in your heart.'

Anna realised she must have been staring too intently at her husband, as he caught her eye and started prowling towards her, lust evident on his face. Maria looked up from her mother's lap and gave a theatrical sigh, worthy of a silver voice skald.

'Madir, that is how I want a man to look at me.' She waved in the direction of her brother. 'I shall die a spinster!'

Gertrude continued to smooth down the curls of her tipsy daughter. 'Of course you will meet a husband, you are just a little young yet to make a decision,' she continued 'and perhaps a little, overwhelmed with the events of the day.'

Kristr extended his hand to Anna. With speech and manners that Ellrik would have proudly endorsed, he spoke softly. 'Come, wife, I think you and our babe might need some rest.' As he helped her to her feet, he leant in for a chaste kiss on the cheek. Anna tilted her head to receive his tender display of affection, but instead of lips caressing her face, they whispered in her ear; 'Rest is what you'll need to do when we are finished tonight!' She stifled a giggle as he offered her his arm and they exited the hall, the picture of a respectable couple.

* * *

Back in the chamber, Anna pushed Kristr onto the bed. 'Husband, in the hall, I played the part of the dutiful wife of the Jarl's son, but in here...' she gave a soft purr, 'I am a wanton woman who wants her man.' She unbuckled his belt, and leaving it to the side, she started to undress Kristr. His tunic slipped off exposing his sleek muscles, the mock battles of earlier in the evening giving his torso a sheen of sweat. Kristr made to start to undress Anna, but she stepped back. 'No, husband, this night will be different. She picked up his belt and moving behind him, buckled it just above his elbows. He hissed softly as she started to untie the leather crisscross bindings of his leggings, and undid the buttons at his hips, pulling them off.

'Whatever will I do with you now, husband?' Anna smirked, undoing her headdress and letting her hair fall in soft waves about her shoulders. She knew how much Kristr loved to see her hair free. He wriggled against the belt, but made no protests as she slowly started to undress in front of him, taking her time, letting him watch every move she made. Finally she came towards him, and knelt between his legs. 'Anna!' He gasped. She could only smile as she felt his cock in her hands. So warm, rock hard but the skin was so soft. Running her hands up the length, she explored her new toy. Circling her hands around his shaft she pushed down and pulled up, slowly, the tender thin skin moving effortlessly against her hands. The guttural helpless moans of her husband encouraged her to take the next step, as she began to plant gentle kisses from his ballsack upwards, pinching the skin gently between her lips. His moans became more desperate and pleading when she moved towards his helm; she knew her warm wet mouth was arousing him as much as his enjoyment was enticing her. She was in charge tonight, and it was exciting to be the mistress in control of her husband's pleasure. Cupping her hands over his sack, she knew it would not be long before he released, the bucking of his hips combined with the long loud groan of her name.

'Yes,' she thought, 'It's good to be a wife.'

* * *

In the hall of a minor Jarl in Jelling, within the Danelaw, Helgena and Lorcan and their host ate a humble meal of turnips and mutton, a sharp contrast to the feasting of Halsrafjord. She knew that they would not be welcome here long, but her favour had been repaid with gold. They would soon be on their way to Hedeby to buy passage to Eastern Scandinavia. Kristr would soon be hers.


	10. Chapter 10

Hello all, thanks for reading, and please forgive me my 9th Century poetry canon at the end. Research means a wee bit of indulgence :)

Thanks Wattle - really appreciate your input!

* * *

Chapter 10

It was a cool damp morning as Helgena and Lorcan made to leave Jelling. The small row boat was loaded up with some supplies; flat bread, dried meat, two punnets of fresh berries and, most importantly, a small chest of silver. When Lorcan went to push the boat off the riverbank, the minor Jarl addressed his former foster-mother.

'What do you plan to do Helgena? If you are planning activities outside the law then I shall deny I have seen you.' He had given her coin the previous evening. She had taken his virginity ten-and-six Winters before. Like some of the other boys in her care, he had been her plaything; the skills and letters he learned in the education hall led him to a high-ranking post in the Court of King Gorm, an excellent achievement for a second son. The abilities he learned in her bed made him a well-rewarded lover for the rich bored wives of Jelling. The rumours that he even serviced the Queen were untrue; other members of the court might not feel slighted – he was keeping their women satisfied and content to live on the rocky outcrop - but if he touched Queen Thrye, the king would kill him slowly.

'Fear not Snorri Longshaft' He scowled at the use of his nickname. She had given it to him when he was still in her bed, but names travelled far and women still used it. 'It is not a concern of yours but I will not name you.' He hoped not. He helped her into the little row boat with her sour-faced Irish companion, and prayed he would not see her again. The debt of his education was paid.

Lorcan eyed Helgena suspiciously. 'Who was he? A fosterling?'

She waved her hand dismissively. 'No one of any great importance, but he did warm my bed. There is nothing like the power and excitement of seeing a young boy become a man.'

'Speaking of bed, Helgena, what about your debt to me?' It had been many months since he laid with a woman and his sack was ready to explode.

'Not yet.' He tried to draw on his inner strength, keeping his own counsel as during the days he served MacHyde. But this was not his brother, this was a living breathing woman.

'You owe me! Perhaps I shall take my payment without your consent.' He pulled on the oars with more effort than usual, his muscles cording under the exertion, evidencing his strength. Throwing her own words back, 'There is nothing like the power and excitement of having a wench struggling beneath you.'

Helgena drew her dagger and pressed it against his balls. 'If you do that, the cost to you will be great indeed.'

He gave a hollow laugh and navigated for the trading town of Hedeby.

* * *

Catherine and Ellrik were awake when Anna and Gertrude arrived in to the chamber. Catherine gave a small squeal of shame and hid her face. Anna knew exactly how she felt. It was one thing to lie with your man, but when everyone knew that a husband had carried out his conjugal duty, it was much more embarrassing.

'Wonderful,' grumbled Ellrik, 'Is this how I am to spend my life now, being roused by my bed by the scolds of the steading?' He pulled the cover from Catherine's blushing face, and the pair rubbed noses. 'Honey-pot, when I am Jarl and you are the Jarl's wife, we can banish this pair to the scullery for the rest of their days.' Dropping a kiss on her forehead he continued, 'They are only here because of curiosity over the morning gift.' He raised an eyebrow, 'And speaking of curiosity, where is Maria this morning?'

'And as of today I am still the Jarls wife, so you will obey me,' Gertrude playfully teased her son. 'Now go and find your brother whilst we prepare your wife.' She stressed the word 'wife' and Ellrik could barely suppress a smile. Pulling on his leggings and tunic, he picked up his sealskin boots and left chamber, before turning on his heel and bending over to give his wife a lingering kiss. Winking at his mother and sister-by-marriage, he sauntered out.

'Come, dottir, let us dress you as a married woman.' It barely felt like two moons had passed since the women of RathSteele had taken her through this process. Even if Maria had not been sleeping off her excess of mead, she would not be privy to this ritual; it was strictly for women who had wed. Gertrude carefully combed her hair and showed her how to twist it into a long cylindrical bun at the back of her head, held in place with a criss-cross thong. A white headkerchief, like the one that she and Anna both wore now covered her head. They continued to dress Catherine in her new garments, a green dress over a simple linen shift, and a new white apron-dress to keep her gown clean. Three rows of jade beads from the orient, threaded between her two silver marriage brooches completed the ensemble. 'My true Viking daughters,' Gertrude smiled as she surveyed the younger women. 'And one is already bearing the fruits of the generations.' She gently rubbed Anna's abdomen. 'The gods have blessed my life. Grainne would have been so proud to see her son happy.'

'Madir, Anna, would you like to know what Ellrik gave me as my morning gift?' When the women nodded in interest, she shyly reached under her pillow. Ellrik had given her two golden armbands, one an intricate Celtic weave of a stylised cat, with tiny garnets set within the twists, and sapphires for eyes, the other a solid gold band, with their names inscribed in runes.

"Catherine, they are exquisite!" Anna gasped in joy for her sister, and giggled at her shy expression. 'Your very own Pangur Ban,' Catherine and Anna had always loved the Gaelic poem written by a monk, about his cat. 'You must wear them to the Dagmal, to breakfast.'

'No, I cannot, they are too pretty for every day wear.' Catherine traced her finger along the knot work of gold.

'Ja, dottir, they are pretty' Gertrude's tone was kind yet firm, 'but not as pretty as you, and only your beauty will add to them. Unclasping the little latches she placed one on each arm and standing back to admire the youth and beauty of her son's wife. Slipping her arm around Anna's thickening waist. She sighed. 'My family of daughters is now complete'

* * *

When they left Ellrik's chamber, or rather, Ellrik and Catherine's chamber, the men were waiting for them. Even Maria was awake, looking a little more subdued and sheepish than usual. Kristr stepped forward and took Anna's hand. 'Sweetling, I am honoured to have you as my Christian wife, but if you could see it in your heart to accept me as you Viking husband, I would be indeed be favoured by the gods.' Tears filled her eyes when she accepted his hand. Looking around at the Gertrude and Catherine, she sought their approval; this should be Catherine's morning, not hers.

'Shhh, Sister,' Catherine gave her a very gentle push forward, 'I had my day yesterday, please go and enjoy it.'

The small group processed to the yew trees, just as Catherine and Ellrik had. When Ellrik had left the chamber that morning, he had met his brother, brothers-by-marriage and father. Kristr had required their help to re-dress the little altar with fresh branches of yew, oak and hawthorn.

Anna could not believe how enticing the scene looked. There were no symbols of faith, nor candles as in their first celebrations. Only nature was represented in its lush, aged, prickly beauty. Joseph handed Raymond's sword to Kristr, she started to cry when her brother gave her a knowing nod. Her Papa, for all his bluster and anger at her early pregnancy, had surrendered his sword to Kristr; he truly had passed her protection from father to husband. Kristr did not speak, but cupped her face in his hands, brushing tears away with his thumbs before placing them on her trembling lips. When she had composed herself again, Kerik handed over a new-forged short sword, the steel glinting in the soft morning light.

'Anna, my second son cannot own the sword of our Ancestors, but please accept this sword as an acknowledgement of your status within our family. I hope that you will keep this safe until your first born, our first grandchild comes of age.' She tried to speak, but could only give a small nod and gulp of air. Kerik handed it to Kristr, who in turn offered it to Anna. She held out both palms to receive it, and smiled when she saw the dual-patterns again. The Greysteinn family tree may have been Viking in its roots, but they had never forgotten that the branches of their growing circle were blossoming in a more diverse manner.

The rest of the ritual passed in a blur for Anna; she felt the honey-mead being sprinkled on her skin, and tasted its sweet drops on her lips, and on Kristr's when he kissed her after the union. Back at the hall, she vaguely remembered Catherine and Gertrude giving her the speech for the bride-ale toast, repeating each line after them. There was a little giggle when Kristr went to bless her womb, but Anna was still grateful for the blessing; she carried a tiny life within her, and the little baby deserved to know that as it grew, it would be loved and blessed by all around it.

* * *

The following weeks passed without much event in Halsrafjord. The short growing season was well underway and the days were filled with tending the crops. Kerik was glad of the extra help from Joseph and Emmett, although the time was coming for them to return to Ireland. It was only fair that they should be on their own lands to harvest. Normally Johan came back north later in the season to assist in the annual harvest and slaughter and smoking of the meat. He missed the man he saw as his third son, the man who had saved the life of his new daughter. Now, after the recent events, he had three daughters to protect.

Kerik turned his mind to his first daughter, the one and only Maria. She was so determined to become a woman, but he was reluctant to see her enter a union yet. Watching her flit and flirt between the icy Emmett and the hot-blooded Joseph, it did not take a scholar to see that she was not ready to make a choice. In addition, he was not ready to make a choice for her; to marry her off to some Jarl down the coast. She would make a fine wife in the future, with her skills in the healing arts, her lively personality and her sharp mind. Within a year there would be a lot of interest in taking her as a bride. Watching her, pruning the loganberry bushes on the far side of the fields, he made a note to discuss her safety with her brothers. Bride stealing was uncommon this far North, but in effect it is what his own sons did.

Maria's actions confused him; in the hall and around people, she seemed taken with Emmett, who was resolutely taciturn and polite to her, but she was the only one besides Catherine who received his smiles On the other side, in private, he had seen her in deep conversation with Joseph, her Irish improving as much as his Norse. He was not sure if either of the men were suitors for her hand, but regardless all three were much too young. He dreaded the thought of Maria's flibbertigibbet nature causing an elopement. Another reason for security; she needed to be protected from herself, at least for another four seasons.

Catherine, wife of his firstborn son, would be a fine Jarl's wife. She was serene and almost ethereal at times, yet when  
she laughed and giggled with her sisters, a glimpse of the young girl was there, before she had locked away her emotions at fourteen, waiting for Ellrik to find the key. Their Norse marriage ceremony would not be recognised by her church, and although Emmett had agreed to the union, there was nothing stopping a rival Ulster chieftain coming North and claiming her as his own. He understood how his son fell in love with the beautiful Catherine. It had been love at first sight with his beloved Gertrude, and lust, closely followed by love with the delicate, cruelly abused Grainne. Because his sons essentially had two mothers, having been born and raised closely by both women, the qualities of both were evident in Catherine; the Nordic beauty of Gertrude combined with the blossoming self-confidence of Grainne. Kerik knew that it would be favoured if Catherine was blessed with the issue of a son, but he said a simple prayer to Frigga that Catherine would bear a daughter, another Greysteinn woman for him to quietly adore.

And Anna, his third daughter. She was the spitfire who challenged her husband, who fought her abduction, whose bravery in the face of adversity against Helgena and Jack MacHyde would have caused many a stronger woman to crumble. She also carried his first grandchild. He hoped that the babe would have the fiery red hair of its father and grandmother, and the personality of both parents. Her safety was of the greatest concern to him. MacHyde may be dead, but Kristr still had enemies at large. That Helgena had escaped was like salt in a wound. He should never have trusted her with his precious second son, and whilst she may have made him a man, she abused her power by taking him to bed. The sooner she was found and tried, the happier he would be.

It was time to arrange an Allthing with his male family; with the expected departure of Joseph and Emmett, his daughters required protection.

* * *

In a little moment of art imitating life, the poem Pangur Ban is treated as canon within 9th century Irish poetry, and different literary figures have taken their own twist on translating it. Here is a version by Seamus Heaney.

Pangur Bán and I at work,  
Adepts, equals, cat and clerk:  
His whole instinct is to hunt,  
Mine to free the meaning pent.

More than loud acclaim, I love  
Books, silence, thought, my alcove.  
Happy for me, Pangur Bán  
Child-plays round some mouse's den.

Truth to tell, just being here,  
Housed alone, housed together,  
Adds up to its own reward:  
Concentration, stealthy art.

Next thing an unwary mouse  
Bares his flank: Pangur pounces.  
Next thing lines that held and held  
Meaning back begin to yield.

All the while, his round bright eye  
Fixes on the wall, while I  
Focus my less piercing gaze  
On the challenge of the page.

With his unsheathed, perfect nails  
Pangur springs, exults and kills.  
When the longed-for, difficult  
Answers come, I too exult.

So it goes. To each his own.  
No vying. No vexation.  
Taking pleasure, taking pains,  
Kindred spirits, veterans.

Day and night, soft purr, soft pad,  
Pangur Bán has learned his trade.  
Day and night, my own hard work  
Solves the cruxes, makes a mark.


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks for stopping by :)

* * *

Chapter 11

Kerik lay awake, staring at the beams and wattle of the roof. Gertrude slept beside him peacefully. He looked at her blonde hair, the silvery strands around her temples glittering by the light of the flickering oil lamp. She may have had a similar build and colouring as her sister, Helgena, but they could not have been any more different in character.

Listening to his wife's even breathing, the rhythm was comforting. They had been together a score and five years, and he loved her as much now as he did the first night he met her, the second daughter of a Jarl. They might both be aging gracefully, but in his heart she was forever fifteen. Folding his hands behind his head, interlocking his fingers, he recalled how they met. He had been on a trading voyage with his father and uncles. Jarlshof was a well known stop on the journey between Oslo and Dubh Linn. Hospitality was extended to travellers and sailors at every steading; there were no inns as in Saxon lands, and most Norse enjoyed the variety of gifts, stories and companionship that visitors brought, especially during the long winter months. The Jarl on the Shetland Isles, along with his wife and daughters, would be delighted to see a familiar striped Norse sail on their horizon.

* * *

Five-and-twenty years previously, Helgena had accompanied her father to greet them at the beach, and he was taken away by her beauty; a strong broad-shouldered woman of twenty summers, every inch a goddess made flesh. She had noticed him too, and licking her lips as she offered the horn of ale made clear her desires. Kerik, at eighteen years, had never been with a woman before, and the men on the boat would have made more of it, except that Kerik's father Halfdan, would have thrown them overboard for mocking his son. That night in the hall, she had brought him dinner, swaying her hips, and looking at him through hooded eyes. She sat down at the trestle table, not quite opposite. Kerik groaned. She teased him by forcing him to turn in her direction, his interest would then be evident to all. As she was older than him, he felt like a willing victim in her trap.

Idly, he noticed a young slave boy approaching, visibly shaking. Helgena rubbed his cheek softly then pinched it viciously. Kerik could not resist listening to their whispered conversation. 'I will not require your cock tonight, slave.' The boy's relief was evident. 'Thank you mistress'. Keeping slaves was normal; they carried out the duties too dirty and unpleasant for Jarls, Karls and Bondi. Kerik had taken part in raids where young men and women were captured for work on the Scandinavian steadings or sold for profit in the slave markets. The thralls on a steading were easily identified by their short hair, plain clothes, often, an iron collar. Women were used as bed slaves, but he hadn't seen a male bed slave before. Her treatment of the young lad, barely out of boyhood, discomforted him.

He followed the lad out of the hall. 'Boy, what is your name?' Kerik grabbed his wrist and when the boy flinched he eased his grip, loosing it completely when he saw the rope bruising about the boy's arms.

'Finnbarr, my lord.' The boy dutifully averted his gaze, aware of his slave status in the society.

'How old are you Finnbarr?' Kerik asked, certain that the cub could not be older than fourteen years.

'I was ten-and-three summers, with the last full moon, my lord.' Kerik felt sick. In Viking society boys became legally men when they reached twelve years. A father would often procure a whore for his son to celebrate, but this sex was given in a transaction of silver; no normal woman found the boys attractive.

'What is your relationship to Helgena of Jarlshof?' Kerik's voice softened a little. The boy lowered his head in shame. 'Boy, I will not harm you. What is your relationship?' Judging by the marks on the boy's arms, whatever Helgena did was not consensual; but as Helgena's property, she could do as she pleased. The price for the life of a slave was less than that for an animal.

'I am her bed slave.' It was barely a whisper, as he saw the boy's eyes fill with tears. What did Helgena see in a boy under ten-and-five years? There and then he knew he would not be lying with her this night, or any night. There was nothing he could do for this boy, and had no other choice but to dismiss him to the slave barns. Turning back, into the warmth and merriment of the hall, he steeled himself, he would not fall for Helgena's advances.

He was puzzled when he saw a woman who was obviously Helgena's sister; the family trait of blonde hair and blue eyes evident, but her face was so much softer and kinder. She had just deftly caught a flagon of ale; it had slipped from the serving girl's grasp. The woman steadied the girl with an easy grin and a reassuring pat on the arm. Catching Kerik's studied gaze, she looked over to him, and gave a shy smile. This was Gertrude. Now he knew he was in love. From her seat at the top table, he felt Helgena's icy stare, but he consciously ignored her. Helgena would not take the slight, Kerik was no fool. When she challenged him, as she inevitably would, he would be forthright. Someone who could mistreat their property so poorly, whether they were slave or livestock, had no place on his arm or in his bed.

He had been reluctant to send a twelve year old Kristr, still grieving his mother, to foster with her, but after four seasons, with discreet enquiries to both his son and other Jarls, it was clear that Helgena was not taking him to her furs. Kerik had begun to relax. Now, knowing what had happened when Kristr was older, at fifteen years, he felt extreme guilt. His son should not have had his first sexual encounters in that way. Helgena may not have used him as she did that young slave boy, but she had abused her power and trust nonetheless.

He tossed and turned all night. Perhaps the Allthing with his sons and the Irish men may put some of his fears to rest.

* * *

Following Kerik's tacit request Gertrude asked her daughters to come to the woods to seek out more herbs for Maria's medicinal satchel, and to gather some berries for flavoured mead. With the later Scandinavian summer, some plants were only coming into bloom. Raspberry leaf, sage, comfrey and marigold were essential for a healer, as well as willow bark and fever few. Loganberries, gooseberries were well in season, as well as a few early rosehips. Anna flinched at the mention of the woods, recalling her abduction at the hands of Lorcan and MacHyde. Stroking her cheek, Gertrude assured her that all would be well. 'Don't worry Sweetling, we will not leave you alone.' She showed Anna a hunting horn. 'The sound of this will fill the air for miles around, and should we need them, the men will be here in no time.' Kerik had not discussed the situation in great detail with her yet; but Gertrude knew that her husband was deeply concerned for the young couples under the protection of the Jarl of Greysteinn.

Maria was not her usual bouncy self, Gertrude mused. The arrival of the Irish men had addled her daughter's brain. Although Gertrude herself was the same age as Maria when she met Kerik, she had a much more level head. Maria was emotionally much too young to marry, and a union with a man only four years her senior would be a disaster. When Kerik had sought her counsel, expressing his fears for their youngest, she could only agree with his judgement.

In addition to Maria's assumed glum over Joseph and Emmett, once the herbs and blossoms were collected and dried, she would go back down the coast to Merkfjeld for the winter season. When her training as a healer was complete, she would be held in high esteem in Halsrafjord. It was another reason that she could not make a match with one of the Irish men; they were tied to their own lands, and Maria was to hers. Maria was destined to marry a second son, to continue her life in Halsrafjord, but Gertrude knew that if Maria truly found love beyond their steading, neither she nor Kerik would stand in her way.

'What will I do without you all?' Maria pouted, her half-full basket swinging from hand to hand. 'My sister is having a baby and I shall not be here.' Stilling her daughter's waving hand before the tiny plants fell to the ground, Gertrude interjected, 'Perhaps you will, Maria.' Already there were two women in Halsrafjord who knew the birthing process, but to introduce her youngest to miracle of life would be essential. 'With Anna's permission, close to the time, we shall send for you.'

Gertrude called Anna's name a little louder, and repeated her suggestion. Anna looked up from her raspberry harvest. The leaves were easy to pick as they would make a soothing tea to ease labour pains, but the soft sweet fruit bruised easily and needed to be handled with care. Popping a berry in her mouth she grinned at her sister's solemn expression. 'How could my babe be a Greysteinn if it didn't hear your squeal of approval at the birth?'

* * *

Kerik stood up and looked around at the men assembled before him; his sons, his warriors, craftsmen and farmers, the Irish. All were equally respected in Halsrafjord, and the spirit of the Allthing would be endorsed here. He ran his fingers through his curly brown hair, making it even more messy than usual and cleared his throat, his voice uncommonly low and even in tone. 'Men of the steading, I have been considering the future. Now that my sons are both married, and with a grandchild on the way,' his eyes danced and crinkled for a moment before his countenance once again took on a more sombre expression. 'It is important to increase our vigilance.' He continued with the formalities. 'In respect of the longstanding Allthing procedures, I shall speak my piece and if you have any queries we can discuss then.' A murmur of approval was heard amongst the assembly. 'First of all, I now request that Ellrik and Kristr no longer go sailing or travelling together, nor will all the craftsmen of a particular trade. This will apply to any voyage beyond Scandinavia.' Addressing his sons directly, 'The family bonds that you have made with your wives must now be greater importance than the bonds of your brotherhood.' If challenged, he would explain his rationale, but he expected his sons and his men to understand. So soon into their lives as husbands, it would be a bitter medicine for Ellrik and Kristr to take; he had no pleasure in clipping their wings. But life was not always easy. His sons had made the transition, the sacred wedding journey. If one son was lost at sea, captured or killed, the other would still be alive to provide protection to the widow, as well as lead the people of Halsrafjord as Jarl.

He studied his son's expressions; and was silently proud when they sat stone-faced; no argument to his suggestion meant they were in agreement.

'As you know Helgena of the Shetland Jarlshof is still at large and we do not know who has aided her.' His tone hardened when he thought of the woman that he had entrusted with his son's upbringing. 'When Johann Flynn returns I will ask him to investigate further.' It may mean that Johann would not be available for the harvest, preparing for the long winter, but it was a calculated risk Kerik was willing to take.

Ellrik stood up, 'If I may speak father, I shall be happy to remain on the steading, if Kristr wishes to continue trading voyages. My only request is that I have permission to make the return voyage to Ireland with Emmet and Joseph, and let Catherine gather some of her things for her life on Halsrafjord.'

'Kristr, do you have any objection to this?' Kerik expected his son to agree.

'Nei Fadir, I accept my brother's decision, and yours. I shall not be leaving Anna's side until our babe has arrived.'

The safety of his daughters by marriage settled, Kerik now turned his attention to his youngest.

'Speaking of return journeys, you will be going home soon.' He addressed the Irish men, and his eyes narrowed. My Maria is but ten-and-six years old, and I do not believe she is of age to marry. In the meantime, Emmett and Joseph, you will be going home soon. His eyes narrowed. Maria is but ten and six years old. I do not believe she is of age for a match, but I need to know if either of you have feelings for her.' He jabbed the air towards each of them. 'I will not permit either of you to break my youngest child's heart.' Kerik folded his arms and glared at them, better that they knew he would not be distracted by protestations of love from men whose balls had barely dropped.

Emmett stood up, his white blonde hair stark in the dim light of the hall. 'Jarl Kerik, your daughter is a breath of fresh air, a precious gem in an unsafe world, but I have no interest in taking or caring for a wife.' Kerik wondered about Emmett's statement; the man was angry most of the time, and his adamant refusal that he was not interested in marriage was odd. Perhaps it was just his youth. Without a legitimate or accepted heir, Emmett's lands would not remain in his family.

It was Joseph's turn to face Kerik's steely gaze. Deferring to the older man, 'I find your daughter a delight Jarl Kerik, and if she were but three years older, I would be asking you for her hand in marriage. However, I feel that Maria, for all her curiosity of the world, will only want to live in the North. Perhaps when she is older and has some more experience of the world, I would like to become re-acquainted. Until then, I believe that she should remain under your protection.' He admired the maturity that Joseph showed, but was nonetheless concerned at how Joseph's mind might change in the upcoming years.

Kerik thanked the men for attending. He was relieved that it had gone smoothly. When the trial for Helgena came, he wondered if there would be any Jarls who would challenge him then.

* * *

A hooded figure sat in the corner of an ale house in Hedeby. Two moons had elapsed since Helgena had escaped Jarlshof. One moon since he had stopped in Jelling, and enjoyed the hospitality within the minor hall of Snorri Longshanks, known by another name amongst women. During their hours of reminiscing, Snorri had confided that he had received a visit from Helgena, and that the visitor should expect his own.

Nursing his tankard of foamy bitter beer, silently from below his cowl he watched the activity, the comings and goings, brawlings and dealings. When an old crone came through the door, with a younger, familiar looking black haired man, he saw through the disguise. It was no doubt that it was Helgena. Her companion's face finally flashed before him in recognition; that hair could only belong to a MacHyde, but to his knowledge Hyde the elder had only sired one grotesque lank-haired son. When they sat down beside the three stocky, short, bearded men and started conversing in Norse, the east Scandinavian dialect was evident. The content of their conversation chilled him to the bone. When he heard that they would be seeking mercenaries for their journey, he had to make a decision; what would be the wisest way to protect his friend? He had to think fast; should he become a mercenary and find out more about Helgena's plans, or should he make haste to Halsrafjord and warn Kristr of her schemes.

He swallowed his tankard in its entirety and stood up. Now was not the time to show his identity as Johann Flynn.


	12. Chapter 12

Hello all, thank you for reading. This chapter was written at 11,589 metres or 38,023 feet, depending on your preferred measurement, a trans-Atlantic fanfic!

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Chapter 12

It was late afternoon when the women were coming back from the forest, the long bright evenings of the Norse summer still meant there were men working in the fields surrounding the steading. Anna admired the lush fertile lands, carefully tended by all those who lived on Halsrafjord. Her eyes finally met those of Kristr, extending an appreciative gaze in her direction as she, her mother-by-marriage and her sisters treaded down the path from the woods. Walking up to meet them, his expression changed suddenly, as he broke into a run and relieved her of the  
full basket of fruit; she was looking forward to making winter preserves and fruited mead from her day's labours.

'Are you well, Sweetling?' concerned, he took the basket from her hand. Maria gave a giggle at her bear of a brother carrying the willow creel in the crook of his arm, his other around Anna's shoulders.

'I am fine, husband,' Anna laughed along with Maria, 'A basket of raspberries an cloudberries is not heavy, and I did not over exert myself.'

Kristr's expression remained unconvinced. Anna curled her head onto his shoulders, allowing him to pull her closer, their steps in time, as they strolled a few paces in front of Gertrude and the others.

'You are tired! I can tell. Now, you shall go to bed immediately after the natmal.' He picked her up into his arms, seemingly oblivious to the titters of his sister and mild protestations of his wife lest her gathered fruits spill with his exuberant gestures.

She turned her face up towards his; giving her sweetest smile, and speaking in Norse. 'Nei, Kristr, not tired, just happy to see you.' she kicked her legs, and tried to arch her back. 'Let me down now, I can walk!'

'Nei.'

'Kristr! Put me down now!' He continued to stride down the well-worn path. 'I do not see Ellrik or Papa Kerik carrying their wives like infants!' He gave a small smile of approval at her pet name for the Jarl.

'Their wives are not carrying life in their wombs.' Stopping for a moment , their eyes met. 'You carry our babe, so I will carry you.' He shrugged, his countenance returning to that of a merchant, whose decision brooked no change. She remembered that look from their first encounter when he had captured her. 'This is a non-negotiable action, Anna.'

She threw the back of her hand onto her forehead, feigning a faint. 'Oh husband, whatever will I do when I am the size of the great hall? You shall have to pull me in a chariot!'

'Wife, your burden will never be too great for me.'

* * *

The women on the steading, including Gertrude, all took turns in preparing meals, and those currently responsible had the natmal prepared by time the Greysteinn women had washed and settled in the hall. Insisting that Anna sat down, Kristr fetched two cups of ale, and then took their trencher and filled it with fresh salmon, roast pork, cabbage, savoury oats and barley bread.

Anna giggled when he returned, placing the overloaded trencher on the trestle, and swinging his long legs over the bench, settling himself beside his wife. 'You know that the men are laughing at you?' He scowled down the length of the table.

'They may laugh now, but when they are lying prostrate on the ground with the point of my blade at their necks,' he growled, addressing no one in particular, but at the same time, everyone.

He jabbed his eating knife in Ellrik's direction, 'And we shall see how domesticated you become when Catherine is with child.'

Ellrik guffawed and threw his arms protectively around his blushing bride, lifting her onto his lap. 'And we shall have fun trying!' His comment was met with raucous laughter from the men and snorts of derision from the women, clearly believing the Jarl's son was overestimating his own prowess on the bedfurs. Anna noticed that one person was not partaking in the merriment; Emmett's scowl had gotten darker, but for the most part was hidden by his unbound hair falling around his face.

As the crowds drifted away to their own sleeping benches or minor halls, Kerik called his family to the hearth. He explained to the women the decisions that had been taken at the family Allthing, and, if they had no objection to the plans, the ship would be prepared to leave within the sennight, or one week. Catherine beamed with delight when she learned that she would travel with Ellrik, and have the chance to see her father and clan. Maria pouted a little when she realised her new playthings were leaving, but she was gently reminded by her mother that she had her own training to finish.

Anna felt her lip trembling, and tears welling up within her eyes. She had not cried in sorrow since her arrival on the Greysteinn steading. It was only six moons ago, but it felt like six seasons. Perhaps it was the babe within her, perhaps the news that Kerik had just shared, but she felt the overwhelming need to be alone with her husband. 'Kristr, can we please leave?' She kept her head down, ashamed lest the tears start falling.

'Are you well?' Kristr's question was full of concern, but he did not hesitate to scoop her up in his arms, and this time she did not argue, throwing her arms around his neck. He turned slightly and gave a quick nod to his father and brother, before mouthing to Joseph, 'I will take care of her.'

Cuddling into Kristr's arms, shielding her eyes from his worried gaze, Anna tried to fight the tears. When they arrived in their own bedchamber, Kristr knelt before her, and took her hands, interlocking their fingers. 'Sweetling, what his wrong?'

'I, I don't know! I am so happy here, and to be your wife, but when Papa Kerik said that Joseph is to leave, and Catherine too….' her voice trailed off. She broke their finger-embrace and reached for a scrap of linen to wipe the tears away.

'Shhh, sweeting. All will be well.' He took the linen square and patted it gently over her eyes, carefully drying her tears. 'Catherine and Ellrik will return before the birth of our babe, and I will be here with you.' He continued his gentle ministrations, 'I will never bring you or our child into harm's way.' Anna could not help herself from sobbing again, at his tender words. Her emotions were in upheaval, and she felt that she had no control over them. As if reading her mind, Kristr sat on the bed, took her in his lap and let her cry, stroking her hair, whispering little affirmations of love, in Norse and Gaelic.

* * *

Emmett lay on one the benches that lined the walls of Kerik's longhouse. Whispering in Gaelic, he directed his question to Joseph.

'Why did you tell Kerik that you would consider taking Maria as a bride?' Emmett frowned 'You never were so welcoming to your agreement with Catherine and now she is married to a pagan.'

'We were children when that troth was made, Emmett.' Joseph said, irritated. 'And she is happy now, surely you cannot take that from her?' Emmett's father had agreed to the union, yet his friend behaved as if his the family was coerced. Amongst the nobles in Britain and Ireland, women were often brought to marriage without their consent, their refusals at the altar drowned out by the loud acceptance of the parents of the groom. Joseph could not bear to think that Raymond would have treated Anna or Catherine in this way.

His thoughts were interrupted by the icy voice in front of him. 'Maria will not be happy with you,' Emmett snorted 'nor you with her!'

'If she would take me, I would care for her, and protect her. She is training to be a healer, a great boon for any clan, and she would bear fine children for RathSteele.' Sometimes he failed to understand Emmett; his mind closed to other possibilities of life. 'I do desire to be a father.' Joseph looked though the darkness at Emmett's shape. 'Would you not want to have children?'

'Children, yes. A wife, no.' Emmett's voice was resolute.

Joseph was finding his friend increasingly obstructive about the future, and choices that were expected to be made. 'You don't need a wife.' Emmett snorted at the statement. 'Look how God brought me to my father, Emmett. You heard how Maria was united with her family.' Kerik's youngest daughter was not treated any differently to her brothers; she had been found as an abandoned infant; and Gertrude was only too happy to have another baby to nurture.

'Wonderful, now your sage advice is that should go out and seek foundlings in the cabbage patch.'

Joseph gritted his teeth. Emmett's anger and frustration became worse each week. 'No, but there are always children who need a loving home and parent.'

'Parents. They need parents.'

'The only father I have ever known found me half-dead on the beach, Anna and I had a loving father, but she lost her mother when she was three years old. One loving parent is better than none.' Sometimes Joseph wished he could take a hurley stick and knock some sense into Catherine's brother.

Emmett rolled onto his side, away from the direction of Joseph's voice.

'Not all of us have it all so planned.'

For now, the conversation was over.

* * *

Johann Flynn had been mulling over his options for the past two nights. Following the overheard conversations of two evenings ago, when he had seen Helgena disguised as a crone, he knew he had to investigate. She was not the only one to use the grey dirt and grime of Hedeby's streets to hide their identity. He currently sat in a private sweat house, perspiring and scrubbing the grime of the disguise from his skin. He felt better when he looked in the polished plate and saw his familiar curly brown hair and clean-shaven face.

The past two days had been spent making queries, in his usual nondescript non-threatening way. With his friendly demeanour and knowledge of several languages, information flowed freely along with the mead around the docks and alehouses of the market town. Johann was so skilled at gleaning information that even when stories were shared, those who had confided in him barely remembered anything about his presence; a ghost yet a flesh-and-blood confessor.

His blood ran cold when he learned that Helgena was seeking out mercenaries to sail with her. She had sourced a longship owned by trader of questionable repute, and it needed two score of a crew for operation. A longship of that size was commonly used for raids against the British Isles, but that was not Helgena's intended destination.

If he volunteered to sail as a mercenary on Helgena's longboat, he might find out more about her plans. He could use his skills to dissuade crew members, and engineer a mutiny, but if his disguise was uncovered, his life would definitely be over. For him, being thrown overboard with his hands bound to a stone would mean he would not have dreams in Valhalla. Any information gleaned would be no use to Kristr if Johann was dead. The unknown black haired man perplexed him. He looked like a healthy MacHyde. It had to be a blood relative of Kristr's sworn enemy, especially if Helgena was involved, although only one contact had established him as MacHyde's man, but couldn't confirm his bloodline.

Instead, he would make the trip North, and share his findings with Kristr, Ellrik and Kerik. He would be expected anyway, as he always came north to help with the harvest and winter preparations; hard work was necessary to see the steading through the long dark months, even one as rich as Halsrafjord. To ensure Maria was safe, he would stop at Merkfjeld. If she was there, he would accompany her north.

Johann's trust in the Karls and Jarls was still there, but Helgena's bony fingers stretched far and wide. The Jarl at Merkfjeld might have sworn a blood oath with Kerik when they had gone a-Viking in the past, but, as Snorri Longshanks had advised, Helgena of Jarlshof was collecting her debts owed, and it was possible that one or more of her former fosterlings resided in the lower fjords of Scandinavia. He feared for the lives of the men and women he called family. He hoped that the Greysteinn steading was well-fortified with all able skilled warriors on or nearby their lands. If Helgena, and the man he presumed was blood kin to MacHyde, arrived with forty mercenaries, it would not bode well for Kristr nor Anna.


	13. Chapter 13

Dear all, thanks for reading, and a big thanks to Wattle, Dreams of Valhalla and Momalu for their constant encouragement, toleration of my writers block and general whining!

* * *

Chapter 13

Maria would be the first to leave Halsrafjord. Rorik Merksramsen, was a long time friend of Kerik, and his wife Hilde was Maria's tutor. When they were young cubs, Rorik and Kerik had gone a-Viking together many times, but now they were considerably older, and wiser. Rorik had come north with spices and wine, and in return were taking back furs and linen for trade and sale at the markets. Kerik was happy to sing the praises of the weaving skills that his new daughter had brought to the settlement. Anna had always been proud of her skills, but she was not boastful. Secretly, she was delighted that her talent would add to the coffers of Halsrafjord.

In addition, Rorik's middle son was one of the fosterlings that had been on Helgena's steading. Although the lad denied being taken to her bed furs, he did admit that some other boys were. Rorik had been furious with the revelation, and had sailed with Kerik and Ellrik to the Shetland Jarlshof . With Helgena still at large, Kerik felt that his daughter would be safest in Merksfjeld.

As the small boat was loaded up, Kerik felt a pang of guilt for sending Maria away to finish her training, when it was not strictly necessary. However, after her dalliance with Emmett and Joseph, he was keen to see his daughter grow and develop some more. In effect, she had aged more than four years in the past four sennights. Maria's place in life was expected to be at hearth and home, and she would require a strong supportive husband who appreciated Maria's skills. It would be a great boon to Halsrafjord to have a healer in their midst. Gertrude had some knowledge, but Maria had a gift. Observing his daughter in the care she already provided, from day-to-day aches and pains to more complex hunting and farming wounds, left him in awe.

Kerik often wondered what tragedy had struck Maria's parents that a healthy girl baby would be left to die. He remembered how he had found the scrap of an infant as through it were yesterday. He had been preparing to embark onto his ship, returning from a voyage to Birka, on the eastern side of Scandinavia, where the Swedes lived, when he had heard the faint gummy cries of the child, wrapped in a lambskin pelt. By swaddling the babe, whoever had abandoned her must have hoped that she would be found before she died from exposure or was eaten by wolves. It was the only explanation that he could rationalise. Naming the child 'Maria' for the mother-goddess of Grainne's Christian faith, Grainne, Gertrude and her new brothers were only too happy to indulge Maria throughout her life, but now she was becoming a woman, and had to be treated as such, even if Kerik's heartstrings were pulled by his seemingly harsh behaviour.

Maria clutched her medicinal satchel, and gave her teary goodbyes first to her mother, and then to her sisters. She had become close to them over the past number of moons, and was delighted to see her brothers settled. It was now a matter of her making a suitable match, likely the second or third son of a Jarl, who had skill in farming or fighting. She had been convinced that Joseph or Emmett would have asked for her hand, but they were both more than twenty years old, and in her mind, they saw her as a flippertigibbet, an immature child. It was time for her to show her family and others what a fine strong Norsewoman she would become, without compromising her cheerful nature.

Clasping his friend's arms, Kerik beseeched him to look after Maria, who was still alternating hugs between her mother and sisters. "Your daughter is a lively one, Kerik." Rorik chuckled. He had sired four boys through his wife Hilde, and another through his concubine Marta. "It might take ten pairs of eyes to keep her out of mischief, but she is growing into a fine young woman. We will keep her safe. With her skills she will make an excellent wife and mother." Rorik took Maria's safety at Merksfjeld seriously. To have a rival family take her and force her into marriage could not be ruled out. Wergild, or ransom, could be demanded, but if another man took her maidenhood, Maria's prospects would be severely limited.

* * *

Along with the rest of the family, Anna and Catherine hugged each other as they watched Maria's boat sail off into the distance, the six oars of Rorik and his men dipping and slicing through the water. They would miss their troublemaking sister dearly. Anna gave a silent prayer for Maria's safe passage. If it hadn't been for Kristr's youngest sister taking matters into her own hands, they may never have joined as husband and wife. When the tides turned, Catherine would be going back to Ireland to see her father, and Anna felt a pang of envy. Kristr came up behind her, and pulled her to his chest, affording him the opportunity to run his hands over her increasing belly. She curled her head into the crook of his arm.

"I am going to miss Maria, and Catherine so much" she sighed. "Truly, I am happy here, but I cannot help being envious that she will get to breathe our own Irish air."

"I know sweetling, but when our little one comes into the world, we will take them to visit your father and brother. The sea will be in their blood, and I look forward to giving our babe all the experiences I can." Holding her close, he absently played with her hair, pinned into a bun at her nape.

"Are you worried that it will be a girl child?" Anna queried, worry in her voice. Thinking of Maria's introduction to the world left Anna fearful for her child. When the baby was birthed, it would have to be presented to the father for acceptance. If the father refused to acknowledge the baby, it would be left to die.

Kristr gave a mild snort of derision as he nuzzled her neck. He spun her around to face him, and cupped her concerned face in his hands. Anna could not resist losing herself in his silver eyes. "Sweetling, I give you my word that whether you birth a girl or boy child, I will accept it. The babe was created by both of us, and will be accepted by both of us. Now, I shall brook no more of your consternation on the matter." Anna gave a slight nod before he continued, "I fear I shall have to tether you to our bed so that I can keep a close watch on you until your confinement."

His firm words made Anna giggle, as she remembered the first time she had been left bound on the bed by the enthusiastic, match-making Maria.

"Wife, what is so amusing to you now?" Kristr's eyes twinkled. "Here I am laying down the law as the husband, and you have the audacity to laugh!" He pinched her cheek playfully. "Perhaps I need to remind you who is in charge, babe or no babe."

Anna wriggled from his grasp, knowing her intended statement would get her into more mischief with her husband. Trying to run, her five-moons girth starting to slow her down, she called out over her shoulder, "Well, Husband, if you can catch me, then you can remind me who is in charge in our hall." It took less than ten strides before he caught up with his wife, and carried her to their hall, both laughing at one another's antics.

Kristr sat her on the bed and sitting beside her, stroked back a stray lock of hair that had escaped from her head kerchief. He unpinned her head-dress and untwined her hair, allowing the brown curls to cascade over her shoulders. Touching her forehead with his, he sighed, "Anna Halsrason, whatever am I going to do with you?" When she bit her lip, his cock jumped; she had had that effect on him since he first captured and bound her. Now her wanted to bind her again, but this time for pleasure, not for fear.

Unbuckling her girdle, he smiled. With her changing shape it would only be another moon before her kirtles would no longer fit. He would happily keep her nude in his hall to enjoy and savour her sweet curves every day.

He slowly removed her garments, easing them off, taking time to enjoy the touch of her warm skin beneath. Gently shushing protests her embarrassment at her swelling shape, he murmured his approval at her fertile body, quietly chiding her for unsuccessfully trying to hide her increasingly voluptuous breasts behind her small hands.

"Give me your wrists, wife." Grinning when she complied, he wrapped a woollen skein around both hands, and threw the length over the roof beam, guiding her wrists above her head. He sat back for a moment, revelling in the view of his pregnant wife, knowing that the life they created was secure in her swelling womb.

Languidly, tracing small circles over her increasing belly, he followed the trail of his fingertips with tender breathy kisses, slowly, tantalisingly moving towards her lush swelling breasts, the salty sweet sheen only piquing his lust. Sucking on each still-pink nipple in turn they quickly became pebble-hard under the firm flicks of his tongue, and the warm caress of his hands, his attentions moving from one to the other, and back again.

"Mine, all beautiful, and all mine." Enjoying her quiet mewls of longing, her responses to his touch on oversensitive skin, he knelt before her, worshipping the goddess that was his wife. Twirling his fingers in her soft dark curls, he encouraged her to part her creamy thighs. He was already rock hard, the sweet musky scent and glistening juices dancing on her nether lips only served to heighten his arousal. Her earlier protestations were foiled by the delectable essence; she wanted him as much as he did her.

Releasing the rope from the ceiling, carefully supporting her still bound arms, he led her to the bed, she did not resist as he carefully retied her wrists above her head. Watching her writhe before him seeking purchase for her release, he knelt again, this time lapping the delicious nectar, gently nibbling on her precious folds before seeking out the tender sweet heart of her womanhood. With her soft cries of pleasure as she hit her peak, he pushed his tongue into her core, giving her a taste of the gratification to come. He eased himself onto her, bracing his own lithe frame over her fertile one. Her encouraging moans only added to his desire, as he slowly, gently, claimed her body as his own again. They were two, and soon they would be three.

For now, there was no Helgena, no threat, just his own growing family. Admiring his wife in the flickering light, he wished it could stay that way.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Catherine waved to Anna until the boat sailed out of view of Halsrafjord. Although excited to be going home to visit her father, the happiness was tempered by the fact that she was travelling alone. She and Anna had not been separated for longer than a fortnight in the past eight summers. Even then the distance between them was half a day on horseback, the distance between RathSteele and RathGorm, her father's seat of power. It would be wonderful to see her father again, and to gather up a few of her precious possessions. When Emmett arrived at the steading, with her father's blessing, he had omitted to bring her mother's silver torc necklace that had passed through the female line of her family. Catherine had never known her mother; she did not survive the birth. Emmett was older than she, and so rarely spoke of her, Catherine wondered if Emmett's memories were true, or the residual imaginations of a small boy. Her father had always spoken with reverence of his wife, and Catherine never felt that her father forgave her for her mother's death. She did not doubt that he loved her, but with a father's duty rather than unconditionally.

She slipped on her cloak and pulled it around her shoulders, the fresh cold wind of the open sea slicing through her kirtle. Although it was still the summer season and the sun was still long in the sky, she was grateful for the fur trimmed garment. Along with Ellrik, Joseph and Emmett, there were another seven men on board. She had no role on the ship and she felt somewhat frustrated by it. Perhaps when they beached the boat at night, she could prepare a decent meal for her husband and the crew. With twelve bodies on board, was a tight squeeze at the minute, but she knew that the additional rowing power would assist on the journey there, and would be essential for the return voyage. She felt Ellik's arms circle her, and she laid against his chest, both looking straight ahead out over the expanse of water.

"What ails you this day, darling?" Ellrik inquired "Do you miss your home already?" He sneaked his hands in under her headkerchief and circled his fingers around her blond coils of hair.

Home. Halsrafjord really was her home. Even the language that she spoke now was nearly all Norse, unless she was conversing with Anna. Despite her unconventional introduction to her husband, it was love, almost at first sight, when he had carried her onto Kristr's ship. Catherine had felt at ease almost immediately in the North, and embraced her new family and life. Even their religious beliefs had never seemed strange to her. Father Michael would be horrified that she had adopted so many tenets of their faith, but she found it easy to blend her daily prayers with pagan rituals, to align the various Norse gods with her Christian saints. She did not care which deity would intercede on their behalf to give them safe passage home, or to bless her with children. She did not fear pregnancy, and her greatest wish now was to bear Ellrik a child, a future Jarl.

"I will be happy to see my father and his people again. I should like him to know that I am happy and safe before we return home." She craned her neck upwards to catch her husband's smile. "Yes, Ellrik, your home really is my home. We belong there." Her unspoken thoughts drifted to the children that deserved to be raised there, alongside Anna's babe.

"I fear your true-brother does not share your sentiment." Ellrik murmured in his wife's ear. Catherine looked across at Emmett, his countenance even more chilling than the wind.

"My father gave his blessing, Emmett brought it, with my father's ceremonial sword, if you recall. I am your wife, and you are not getting rid of me so easily, husband!"

Ellrik spun her around and held her tight. "And do not think you will rid yourself of me either!" Catherine nuzzled against the wool and leather of his jerkin. This man protected her, not from duty, but from love.

* * *

Lorcan decided to take a break from loading the hull of Hrut Blackbeard's longship. So far they had only sailed from Hedeby to Rika, barely a third of the journey. He did not know how Helgena managed to involve him in work normally done by slaves. He had herded the animals into the pen, and one of the thralls could scrape up the putrid droppings. Coming off deck, before entering the shack at the dockside, he helped himself to a giant cup of ale. Hearing raised voices, he pressed his eye to a crack in the slatted wall.

"When can we sail, Hrut?" Helgena ran a whetstone over her dagger for what must have been the tenth time in as many days. "I am keen for you to keep your side of the bargain."

The gnarly Swede did not even bother to look up at her. "We have been over this Helgena. I credited you with more patience than you currently display."

"And I have credited you with coin!" Helegna's voice was raised. Lorcan could not help but sneer at the drama that unfolded through the splintered peephole; he could barely believe that the one man not to fall to her charms and demands was a stocky hairy barbarian from the edge of the north world. Hrut Blackbeard was the opposite of Helgena; not just that she was female, he was male. She was blonde and, now that she was not in disguise, was clean; he was a smelly mass of bushy beard, bulbous nose, blood-stained clothes and coarsely plaited hair. Her features were still delicate within her statuesque frame. His eyes might have been an innocent bright blue in colour, but they barely touched on the depths of atrocity that he obviously had seen in his lifetime. Lorcan could not even begin to determine the man's age. He could be anywhere between two score and four score years.

Hrut merely shrugged at her outburst. "You can seek assistance elsewhere, but rest assured that as a woman outside of the law, you will be hard pushed to find an ally." He unhooked his pouch from his belt and withdrew a number of gold coins, stacking them one on top of another. He pushed the short tower towards her. "Feel free to cancel our agreement." He inched it further in her direction. "If you can. The name of Greysteinn carries a lot of weight even this far south of the fjords. You can try finding someone to help you capture Kristr Greysteinn, but without me, it will be you who will be a prisoner at the mercy of the Allthing." Hrut picked up the coins and re-dropped them into their tower shape. You can come with me to Birka, we will gather mercenaries there, and then return to travel up the western fjords." he flicked the tower over, the coins scattering them across the table. "Or, you can try another way."

Lorcan heard an angry hiss from Helgena, and seeing she was making for the door, he jumped back from his vantage point and casually sipped his ale. Passing, she glared at him "Why aren't you working, Irish? Do you not want to be on your way to claim your new bride as I wish to be on my way to claim my groom?" Reflecting Hrut's own action, Lorcan shrugged and went back to the boat, smirking to himself. Helgena was becoming increasingly angry and deranged, and consequently he had less desire to bed her. When her life ended, as it inevitably would, there would be all the more riches for him.

* * *

Ellrik scanned the sky. They had been sailing for three days, and this would be their third night on the ocean. The purple-grey storm clouds were gathering quickly and hanging low on the horizon. Judging by the ominous flickering in the sky, a sinister dance of light, the thunder of Thor was on its way. Any remaining sunlight was now occluded by the incoming rain and they were perhaps still a eighth of a day away from the nearest steading. This was not a summer squall, and the unnatural sticky heat that was descending over the air did not bode well for the tiny ship. Seeing the expectant expressions on the faces of his men, he made his decision.

"Men, stay at the oars, and make direction for land towards the east." Joseph was already taking his turn at rowing, and, along with the other men, increased his pace. "Emmett, batten down any sea-chests that are not already secured to the deck." Seeing his brother-in-law scowl at the order he made to reissue it, at dagger point if necessary. He felt Catherine tug anxiously on his tunic.

"Husband, what can I do for you?" For a moment his heart melted. Catherine would not have the strength of muscle to row, or the stamina to manage the sail. Feeling the dank oppressive heat in the air, it was not Catherine's robustness that concerned him, but her weight.

"Darling, there is nothing you can do now, but follow my instruction." Picking up a rope he motioned to the ship's mast. "I am sorry to do this to you, but I must lash you there for your safety."

Catherine's lip trembled, "But I must be of some use to you on this ship!" Ellrik did not have much time to comfort her, but drew her towards the wide round beam.

"Sit, please." When Catherine obeyed with a soft cry, he felt worse than the day he abducted her, and he had not bound her then. "This is for your own good, my darling. You might be taller than most, but your weight will be no match for the Njorther, the god of wind and sea, when he comes whipping through here, and I have never sailed with a cargo as precious as you." He brushed away her tears. "The knot is at the front. As soon as it is safe, I will release you." He kissed her forehead, nose and finally planted a gentle buss on her lips, holding the chaste embrace until she stopped shaking. The boat was beginning to toss on the waves, and he would need to take the steer lest the tiller broke from the stress, after he resolved the dissention with his brother-in-law.

Now his attention returned to the sullen Emmett, who had made his presence aware by jabbing his sharply on the shoulder. "So, Jarl Greysteinn," he snarled, 'this is how you plan to treat my sister. If my God ever delivers us from this storm, I shall see that she does not come back with you. You took her by force and now you tie her like a common animal!" Ellrik's eyes narrowed, his hand on his dagger as Emmett continued his tirade. "You do not deserve her, Norse. My father is a fool for giving her to you. Or, perhaps you conjured up this weather so that you can consign us all to a watery grave."

From a young age, Ellrik had been taught self-control in preparation for his role as a Jarl and leader. However, when it came to the protection of his wife, his role as husband came first. Unsheathing his dagger, he held it to Emmet's throat. "Catherine is my wife in the eyes of our laws! If Thor and Odin spare us this night, I will stop at the first Christian church I find, and if it is what Catherine wants, we will be married in the eyes of your God, and then," Ellrik slowly dragged the blade across Emmet's neck, four pearls of blood rounding on his skin, "no man will tear us asunder." With Ellrik's statement, a bolt of lightening tore through the sky, and dropping his dagger, he ran to the tiller. He had eleven souls to save from Hel.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Kristr would not be pleased with her that she had not come back to the settlement. Now that she was in her sixth moon of pregnancy, her husband barely let her out of his sight. It wasn't oppressive; Anna was happy to be close to her protective husband and his family. He and Kerik had been busy all day, herding any wandering livestock into the barns, and securing the loose fencing and gates. Although she was under Kristr's strict instructions to stay within fifty paces of the steading the uncomfortable sticky air, combined with the unease of the general population in Halsrafjord, had left her feeling stifled. Gertrude had been curiously quiet all day, and when Anna had tried to comfort Gertrude's silent tears, she was met with a sad smile and a pat on the arm.

The tortured twisted clouds above her head and the sickening churning grey sea were like nothing she had seen before, even living on the coast in Donegal. Her internal torment was worse as she thought of Catherine, Ellrik and Joseph. It had only been three days since they had set sail. She prayed that they had found shelter from the storm. Anna was no fool, it was obvious that Gertrude was worried about her family but did not want to give her concerns a voice. Anna shivered under her cloak, despite the heavy cloying air around her. The saturated clouds would release their burden soon.

Suddenly Anna jumped. There were two reasons. Firstly the crack of lighting that had split the sky almost in two, so much so, she expected the world to fall apart. Secondly, the babe in her womb kicked so furiously she curled her hands around her belly and ran to the steading.

Kristr was standing in the door of the hall, his form silhouetted against the roaring fire in the long pit. Anna panted, 'The babe!' Kristr pulled her into the longhouse and dragging the damp cloak from her body, sat her down on the bench.

'What is the matter with the babe, Sweetling? Are you well?' Anna cupped his worried face in her hands.

'The babe moved within me!' She drew her hands and his over her belly. 'When the lightening rent the sky it must have stirred the babe.' Kristr's smile was as wide as the light cast by the weather. Anna revelled in his happiness for a moment, before her mind turned back to the storm, and their family. 'Do you believe that they will be well?'

Kristr's expression turned neutral. 'Ellrik is an excellent navigator on the sea, Sweetling. He will do everything in that is in his power to keep all safe.' Anna did not miss the slight tremble of anxiety in his voice, at odds with his unreadable countenance. 'Ellrik will be Jarl. He was born to lead. He promised they would return within the time of a moon.' Kristr did not move his hands from her belly. 'He needs to see this new babe and to be a husband and father himself.' His final words barely came out as a croaked whisper.

Curling herself around her husband, Kristr dropped a kiss on her forehead. She could not forget her family at sea, but was grateful to have her own husband's warm hands around her. She hoped that wherever Catherine and Ellrik were, they were safe and secure. He stretched behind him and pulled a bearskin from the far side of the bench. Wrapping it around them both, they sat in silence watching the flames within the hearth and listening to the wind outside.

* * *

Along with the harsh gusts of wind, the waves were getting higher, and the boat was tossed angrily between the undulating waves. The sky, earlier an eerie green was hanging grey-black over their heads. It was so low, if she wasn't secured to the mast, she could almost reach up and touch the greasy mass. Catherine felt the knot that held her firm to the solid wooden trunk. The temptation to release herself was great, but when she saw one of the sea chests sliding over the deck before being caught by Joseph, and lashed to the rowing bench, she changed her mind. Emmett was supposed to secure them all, but he must have missed one. Ellrik was at the tiller, both hands holding it steady, the exertion evident on his face. The other men were rowing furiously, even Emmett. The water was beginning to slosh over the sides of the boat, soaking the men's feet and legs. Catherine shivered as the water smacked up against her kirtle, dragging and stretching the woollen material. The saturated garment clung to her legs, its weight preventing her from moving more than an inch or two. The rain and hail was pelting down, so cold that she felt her skin was burning. Catherine tried to wipe the briny sea water from her face, the salt stinging her eyes. Blinking furiously to relieve the pain, she caught sight of Ellrik, his stony face lit up by a flash of lighting. His hair was stuck to his scalp, free of its leather thong that normally held it in place. His normally good natured features had disappeared. The boat tossed violently to one side and Catherine let go of the knotted rope and instead clung to the mast with all her remaining strength. Moving in her sodden clothing was sapping her remaining energy. There was another flash of light followed by a long sinister rumble of thunder. This time she did not see Ellrik, and she panicked. The knot. She must release herself and find what happened to him. When the boat lurched with another giant wave, the force took her breath away, and she saw nothing else.

* * *

Johan Flynn's small boat had mercifully escaped most of the storm. The short crossing from Jutland to the Fjords of the north had not been without event. He had travelled alone, as he often did, even though the boat could take two oarsmen. Pulling up onto the familiar pebbly beaches of the lower lands, he surveyed for landmarks to help him identify his location. He groaned when he saw the gaping hole in the sail. Unless he was able to repair it or trade for a replacement, the remainder of the journey spent rowing would be exhausting. The blue sky and calm water belied the chaos of the night before, but a casual glance at the debris around the shore showed that other boats may not have been so fortunate.

Digging in the intact sea-chest he was relieved that it had not been tossed overboard during the squall. At least he still had some hack silver and gold coins for trade, or bribe, if necessary. Stuffing the pouch of precious metal into his leggings, he straightened up the rest of his few belongings.

'Whhooo goes there?" He turned around to see a girl-child, no more than ten summers old, waving a wooden sword. She was dressed in a boy's tunic, but her long blonde plaits and high voice easily marked her as female. Johan could not help but smile. If he had a daughter, he'd want her to be as brave as this little lassie, but perhaps not quite so close to a stranger. He held his arms up in defeat. 'My name is Johan Flynn, and I am a traveller washed ashore by the storm of yester-eve.'

The child eyed him suspiciously. 'Are you Swede? Are you Pict?' Johan chuckled. 'Nei, I am Norse.' She spoke the Norse tongue so he assumed her to be of that race. 'Would you be so kind as to lead me to your Jarl?'

'Nei. I shall bring you to my father. Until then, you are my prisoner, Johan Flynn, Norseman.' Johan looked around. He could not see any other eyes on them, or movements in the bushes. Any settlement that let children run free must be either safe or unguarded. He hoped it was the former. Surreptitiously, he checked for his knife. He had no intention of harming the child but if they were set upon, he would defend them both.

'May I have the name of my captor?' he enquired as he walked forward. He had kept his hands raised. The little wooden sword poked him in the back of the thigh.

'I shall not give you my name until I deliver you to my father, Leif Merkson.' Johan dared not laugh at his captor's error. She had given her family name. If it was indeed Merkson, he was not too far from the lands of Rorik Merkson. He had not seen the man in many years, but the name of Kerik Greysteinn would carry weight, and Maria may even be there to vouch for him.

Johan was right. The settlement was prosperous, was well reinforced and, with the exception of a couple of downed trees, showed no evidence of the horrendous weather that had dumped on them the previous eve. A woman ran out of one of the long houses, scattering chickens left and right. 'Hilda!' she chastised 'Your father is looking for you!' On realising Hilda was not alone, the woman stopped and shrieked 'Leif! Leif! Come here!' She grabbed a broom by the door, brandishing it as a weapon at Johan with one hand, tugging on Hilda with the other. 'Get away from my daughter!' Johan knew better than to try and reason with a mother in this protective state, and stepped back.

'Mama!' Hilde whined 'His name is Johan Flynn, he is Norse and he was washed up on the beach, and he is my prisoner now.' The child barely drew breath.

Johan noticed Hilde's eyes widen in awe; she was looking beyond him. 'Afi!' Grandfather. He surmised that was the person behind him, and lowered his hands to have access to his dagger. A deep voice reverberated around his head. 'So, the wandering traveller returns! It must be the season to have friends and family of the Greysteinns in our region.' Johan did not need to turn around. Rorik Merkson's deep timbre would wake the dead. He knew he would reach Kristr before long.

'Johan Flynn! Thor and Odin were watching over you last night!' The men clasped arms. 'It has not been long since I left Halsrafjord. All the family were in fine fettle.' Rorik clapped him on the back. 'And I see that you have met my grand-daughter, Hilde.' Johan smiled at Hilde, her petulant frown at losing her 'prisoner' brightening when he held out his arms to her in surrender.

'Yes, Hilde treated me most honourably, Rorik.' Johan bent on one knee before her. 'Thank you, Warrior Hilde for your kindness. In truth, you shall make an excellent Valkyrie.' Hilde beamed with pride, as Johan stood up, and turned to Rorik. 'How far are we from Merksfjeld?' He needed to inform Kristr of Helgena's plans before she arrived there.

'Come, Johan-sonr.' Rorik pointed to the longhouse. 'We are but a day from Merksfjeld on horseback and you know that it is only a day and a half to Halsrafjord, with a good tide.' The men entered the building, especially dark in contrast to the bright sunshine outside. Hilde's mother came in with two horns of ale, and left the men.

When Johan had finished his story, Rorik shook his head in disgust. 'What can we do to assist? Of course we can leave tomorrow to Merksfjeld. From there we can take a larger boat to Kristr.'

Johan pursed his lips. 'I appreciate everything you are doing for Jarl Kerik, and Kristr. I would be grateful, if there is to be battle that Maria stays on your settlement.'

Rorik shrugged. 'It is nothing. They saved my youngest son from Helgena's grasp. Leif is my only son married, and although I have four others, I do not want to lose any children.'

'Or grandchildren?' Johan smirked. The mischievous Hilde made him long for a daughter of his own.


	16. Chapter 16

Hello all, thank you for reading!

Chapter 16

The following morning Rorik and Johan surveyed his boat and the surrounding flotsam. 'I fear this storm has taken some men to Valhalla.' He picked up a warped timber from the beach. He traced his finger along the partially visible carving of a dragon's head. 'Part of me wishes that Helgena met a watery grave last night.'

Rorik shrugged. 'Time will tell. In the mean time, we should make haste to Merksfjeld. My sons will sail north with you.'

There was a rustle behind them. 'And I am coming too! I am strong and ready to do battle!' Johan did his best to hide his mirth.

'Hilde!' Rorik wasn't so successful in hiding his exasperation. 'How long have you been eavesdropping?'

'I was not eavesdropping, I was protecting our land from raiders.' She slashed her wooden sword through the air. 'Father has promised me a real sword from the blacksmith when the harvest season is over.' She sighed wistfully. 'Afi, when do you think that will be?'

Rorik tugged on his granddaughters wispy braids, her fine hair escaping the plaits. 'Not long, little one.' He gave a conspiratorial whisper. 'Perhaps if you promise to stay here and guard your father's homestead, I can arrange for you to get your first weapon a little earlier.'

Hilde's eyes lit up and she flung her arms around her grandfather. 'Thank you Afi. I shall look after the steading, if you promise to look after my prisoner, Johan Flynn.'

'Agreed, little one, but he is no longer your prisoner.'

Hilde srunched her nose in thought. 'Then will you return as a free man, Johann Flynn? You must tell your wife that you must visit me again. You were a most noble hostage.'

Johann dropped to one knee and kissed Hilde on the cheek. 'When I marry I shall tell my wife of my time with the littlest fiercest warrior in all the fjords.'

* * *

Anna felt guilty. Kristr had dragged a wide bench outside for her. He smoothed a wolf pelt over the smooth worn wood and instructed her to rest. She closed her eyes and turned her face to the warm sun, listening to the noises around her. Close by, insects buzzed and hummed, birds chirped and warbled, in the distance she could hear the indistinct voices of people, going about their chores . Only one person was distinguishable, and she smiled to herself when she heard Kerik bemoan the heat and demanding more water to slake his thirst.

The weather of the previous two days belied the fury of the storm. Since that terrible evening, every capable man woman and child had been involved in clearing up the aftermath of the storm. The younger children were responsible for collecting small broken sticks and branches. They would be used as kindling for the fires. Kerik divided the men into two teams. One group started working the fields again, inspecting the crops. The other group had the unenviable task of combing the coast for any bodies or identifiable pieces of wrecked longships. The women had started to herd the animals out to pasture; they were well fattened and their meat would keep the families fed over the long Norse winter. As the only woman currently with child on the steading, Kristr had banned her from doing anything more strenuous than stitching some tiny blankets and child-sized kirtles for the baby. She was especially pleased with her attempt to make small booties for the new arrival, although it would be a long time before he or she needed them.

She blinked slowly, accustoming her eyes to the light, when Gertrude's frame blocked the sunlight once more.

'Hello, Madir.' Anna straightened up on the bench and stretched her arms, wiggling her fingers. 'It is a beautiful today.' Shading her eyes from the sun she could see the pain and worry etched on her mother-in-law's face. Like Gertrude, she was not in the mood to talk about Ellrik and Catherine. Kristr and Kerik had both expressed confidence that they would have sailed far south, and would have been catching the tides through Shetland by the time of the storm. Anna did not understand the art of sailing but prayed that the men were correct. All they could hope for was that they would return as expected, around the time of the next full moon. Until the moon had waxed and waned three times, the men had advised them that there would be no point in worrying.

'I see Kristr has confined you to your hall, but at least he is making you comfortable.' Gertrude set her empty basket on the bench.

'Yes, but I am riddled with guilt! Look at the crops that need to be tended, and the chores that need to be done.' Anna stood up, shook out the wolf pelt and neatly folded it. 'Surely there must be something I can do to help.'

'No, it is well. The meal is cooking, the bread is baked, and in that sunshine, the linens will dry quickly.' Gertrude rubbed the younger women's belly. 'You can help by keeping this little one safe.' She swallowed, 'Just in case...'

Anna stopped her from voicing the thought. Kristr would be Jarl if Ellrik did not come home. She took Gertrude's hands. 'They will come back.' They had to. Changing the subject, she suggested to her new mother that they take a walk to pick lingonberries and blackberries.

Gertrude pointed to her basket. 'That was my plan, and I should enjoy the company.' Anna went to fetch her own basket. The last time she had been out berry-picking, she had been with Maria and Catherine. So much had changed, even in those few weeks. Maria was in Merksfjeld and Catherine... she prayed that Catherine made it safely to land.

Anna grinned as she looked at her purple stained fingers. Around the edge of the woods the bramble patches were heavy with fruit. The fat luscious berries were hard to resist, and for every one Anna managed to put in her basket, another one passed her lips. Idly she wondered if her lips had taken on a juicy hue as well. Looking in her basket, there was still enough to share with Kristr tonight. Perhaps.

'Shall we stroll by and see how our husbands fare in the fields?' Gertrude enquired. 'I'm sure Kristr will be happy to see that his wife still has a healthy appetite, if not a bellyache from all those fruits.'

Anna laughed. 'And he will be happy that I have a chaperone. His concern for both myself and the child is at once endearing and infuriating.'

'Ah, he is no different to how Kerik behaved when Aisling and myself were bearing his sons.' She stopped and reassuringly stroked her daughter-in-law's cheek. 'It is just the way of men. We love them, we like to have them near, but sometimes if they stayed on the other side of the fjord we would be delighted!'

As they approached the fields, the voices became clearer. Kerik was still bellowing about the heat from the sun, angrily swatting midges from around his head. It was not excessively warm, but in Ireland there were only a handful of days each year that were like this. Judging by the amount of loud scolding from the Jarl, days like this were also uncommon this far north.

She laughed when she heard Kristr retort to his father that he would never have been successful as a trader in Byzantium, if this climate was leaving him cranky. The statement did nothing to ease Kerik's grumbling, which actually seemed to get louder.

Turning the corner, past the dairy, Anna's worry and earlier guilt vanished like morning dew when she saw her husband, naked to the waist, drops of perspiration giving his muscular body an angelic sheen. Her thoughts were anything but heavenly, unless Heaven was populated by men who looked like her husband.

Catching his eye, she licked her lips in anticipation as Kristr speared the hoe into the brown earth, and strode towards them.

'Anna, why are you wandering around in this heat? Madir, why did you permit her to leave the hall in her condition? What if she fainted and nobody was there to help her?' He uncorked his water skin and passed it to Anna. 'Drink.'

Anna rolled her eyes, but was grateful for the water nonetheless. 'Kristr, I am carrying a child, but I am not a child!' She must have been louder than she thought because Kerik came up behind Kristr ready to add his opinions to the conversation.

He mopped his brow. 'Yes, but this is not any child, it is my first grandchild! A wonderful addition to our family.' Lifting the water skin from Anna's hands he took a long drink. 'Go back to the darkness of your hall for a while Kristr.' He bounced his eyebrows. 'I am sure that if I go to my chamber, my sweet Gertrude would fan me until I was cool again.' He gave Gertrude a playful smack on her backside. 'Come wench, we shall leave the young ones alone.' Gertrude snorted in mock disgust, and flounced ahead of her husband, waving her hand that he should follow.

Kristr dragged his thumb over Anna's mouth and planted a gentle kiss. 'It appears as if you have been eating berries, or have you been involved in a passionate embrace with another?' Anna circled her pinkened lips with the tip of her tongue. The faint taste of fresh perspiration and salt tingled, and the sensation was not limited to the trace left by her husband's touch.

'Nei, no passionate embraces, Husband. She shook her basket gently causing the berries to bounce. 'The only sweet releases that I have had are courtesy of nature.'

He peered into the basket 'Hmmm, there are not many left. It is enough to make a husband jealous, when his wife has kept all the juiciness to herself.' He plucked a single berry from the basket and placed it between his own lips. Bending down towards Anna's upturned face he placed the delicate fruit on her mouth. He pressed his lips to hers, causing the berry to burst between their deep kiss as they savoured the tangy sweet essence.

Breaking the embrace, Anna innocently picked up her basket. 'There are still some berries here Kristr. Perhaps there is enough to use in a meal.'

He took the basket from her, and with his free hand curled around what remained of her waist, his hand spanning her bump. 'Only if I am the cook, and you are naked.' Kristr escorted Anna to the hall, and went to fill a basin with cool water from the well. Anna removed her overdress and thin linen kirtle. She did not realise how warm she had been until she felt the refreshing chill in the hall. There was no fire today, save for the small pile of embers insulated by a thin layer of wood ash.

Her body gave an involuntary shiver of pleasure, initially at the cold air, then when she saw the silhouette of her half naked husband at the door. 'Go into our chamber Anna, I shall follow shortly.'

Anna watched as Kristr took a cloth and cleansed the sweat and grime from his body. She called out hopefully 'Perhaps I can help with your back?'

Kristr wrung out the cloth and continued washing. 'Nei, you should be in the chamber taking a rest before our natmal.' She remembered that Kristr had offered to cook that night. That should give Kerik an overdue chuckle.

It was not long before he joined her in the chamber. Sliding his hands over her thighs, he slipped her under-dress up over her hips, his palms not breaking contact with her skin until he reached her shoulders and she dipped her head so that she was free of her clothing. He leaned in to nip softly on her collarbone and neck; his chaste cool kisses leaving her skin fevered in their wake.

'Lie back, and lie still.' Anna nodded but wasn't sure how she would manage this given that her heart was pounding with a mixture of lust and anticipation. Kristr returned with a small wooden carved pot and the basket of berries, placing them on the bench by the bed.

'What are you doing, Kristr?' Anna enquired

He lifted the lid of the little wooden pot, and dipped his finger into it. 'It is dinner. Open.' He smiled, as she obeyed and sucked his finger. The sweet floral smell of the amber syrup filled the room, as the delicious taste invaded her mouth.

She licked her lips. 'Mmm, can I have some more?'

He dipped his finger into the pot once more. 'Did I say dinner?' he allowed the honey to drizzle over her right nipple, before repeating the process on the left. He picked up a berry and placed it on the honey. 'You, my beautiful wife, are my natmal, and I shall feast like a god.'

The honey warmed against her skin and tickled as it spread, before Kristr slowly licked along the golden rivulets, reaching the prize of the berry. Just as he had done earlier, he shared the fruit in a tantalising kiss.

'Alas, Wife, there is only one berry left, and this one is all for me.' He guided her thighs apart and lightly ran her finger over her folds. 'I do believe you are sweet enough already here, Anna.' Taking the last small fruit, she gave a giggle of anticipation when he smoothly pushed it into her entrance.

'How are you going to retrieve that now, Kristr?

Reflecting her earlier action, he circled his lips with the tip of his tongue. 'Like this.' Kneeling at the foot of their bed he laid kisses from her breastbone, around her belly, over her mons before he finally reached his goal. 'I hope you are feeling patient, wife. I intend to be very thorough in my quest for the missing lingonberry.' His voice was barely audible between her thighs. The exquisite sensations she had experienced, the soft honeyed nips and licks of earlier had turned into a sensous hunt for the buried treasure and she was spiralling up towards a glorious explosion of release.

'Anna, be still.' The soft reprimand floated over her consciousness ,

'It was not me, it was the babe!'

The elation on Kristr's face was almost enough to send her over the edge, as she surrendered to the intense, yet gentle attentions of her husband. She would sleep soundly in his arms tonight.

* * *

Thank you to the usual suspects who put up with my whining! -Ban


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Catherine groaned. The pain across her belly was dull and ached with every breath. She wanted to sit up, but the task seemed insurmountable. Opening her eyes, she realised she was lying on a bench in a hall, but it was not familiar to her. The fire was lit, and there was a shaft of sunlight piercing through the hole in the roof, the white curls of wood smoke shimmering in the haze. 'Ellrik? Are you there?' When her question was met with silence, she recalled the storm. The waves, the wind, the sweaty heavy air, the thunder and lightning. She touched her naked stomach, and winced when her fingers brushed over the sensitive ridge. The rope must have bruised her when she was secured against the mast. Ellrik had made sure she was safe, but what about him? She had to find him. Wincing, she forced herself to sit up. The fur that was covering her slithered to the floor, and she moaned as she stretched to pick it up.

A woman in a dull brown dress came flying into the hall. She grabbed the fur and draped it over Catherine's bare shoulders. "You shouldn't be moving Mistress Catherine" she tutted, as she inspected the wide belt-bruise.

"How do you know my name? Are you the lady of the hall?" Catherine whispered. Someone else must have survived the storm besides herself. "Ellrik?"

"No, I am a humble thrall here. But when I heard you move, I sent one of the female bondi to summon your men folk, but I do not know of an Ellrik." Catherine's shoulders slumped and she started to sob uncontrollably. Ellrik had saved her life, but without him, she was nothing. Pulling the fur around her, the pain was forgotten as she curled onto the bench and cried for her love, not hearing any of the words of comfort from the slave-woman.

* * *

"Ouch." Emmett stabbed his finger again. Joseph had lost count of the number of times Emmett had punctured his fingertips with the thick iron needle. "I cannot believe I am repairing a Viking sail!" The grumbling continued, punctuated by muttered swear words in Norse and Gaelic.

"Is one language not good enough for you any more?" Joseph didn't even try to stifle his chuckle.

"I shall never complain about womenfolk again. This is women's work we are doing here!"

"And if there were no women at sea, who would you suggest do it then, Emmett? Will the great Celtic god Manannan rise from the ocean to stitch for you?" When their ship had finally beached at a small settlement called Setersund the Jarl had offered them hospitality but with such a large group it would have been unfair to leave again without replenishing the stores. The oarsmen had gone off hunting, and the others had stayed behind to offer their services on the land, and to wait for Catherine to waken up.

Setersund had a number of slaves working in the fields. Emmett could not bear the idea of a thrall taking on the sail repair and still having more work to do, so he had volunteered to sew it himself. Joseph admired the noble gesture, but because Emmett had refused any help the job was taking longer than expected.

"The sooner I get back on my own land with Catherine, the happier I will be!"

Joseph was listening to detailed instructions from one of the boatsmen from Setersund on what tide would carry them along the north coast of Albion, and to Ireland. There were a dozen men preparing to sail to Jelling on a short trading expedition with the extra produce from the fields, and he was helping them to load their boat as he garnered information from the much more experienced crew. He snapped his head up with Emmett's latest bellyache. "Emmett, when Catherine wakens, let her decide. You cannot keep her by force and kill her spirit." He rolled his eyes and shook his head. Catherine had changed and grown so much since being taken from RathSteele. Emmett may have a fight on his hands with his sister, if she ever roused.

Taking a break from their work, the men enjoyed a horn of ale. The silence was broken with the shrill voice of a woman coming towards them. "You are sailing soon, and the sooner I get her off my land the better." She pulled on a rope and a thrall stumbled forward.

The other men merely looked up, but Joseph approached the pair, and spoke in Norse. "Why do you want rid of her?"

"Isn't it obvious? She pointed to the slave's belly. My husband has left her with child, yet has not managed to plant his seed within me." She tossed her braid over her shoulder. "This non-person will have no right to our lands, through the bastard she carries in her womb."

"Does your husband know you are doing this?" Joseph knew it was none of his business, but that did not prevent his curiosity getting the better of him. The slave was uniquely beautiful. He had never seen anyone like her before.

"Why does it matter? She is a slave. My husband has gone to raid the lands of the Rus in the East." She shrugged. "If he returns, I will tell him she has died. This thrall thinks she is still a princess, and my husband treated her as one." A snort of disgust and a glare were thrown in the slave's direction.

Joseph appraised the slave. "Look at me." She raised her face towards him, when their eyes met, she gasped and trembled in fear. She jumped when he touched her arm. "Where were you taken from?"

"My husband bought her on the slave block in Mikagaard in Byzantium" her owner interjected. Ignoring the woman, Joseph asked the question again.

"Far to the south. The Arabs raided my home lands in Ethiopia" her voice barely a whisper. "You look like them, but do not speak their tongue."

"What is your name?"

"Zannfe."

Joseph could not leave this girl to face another cruel fate. He knew he had some silver, but had to negotiate a price, if he was to offer her some semblance of freedom on RathSteele.

"How much for her?" he enquired. Slavery was common but there were none on his father's lands, or at Halsrafjord.

"Two markur." Considering the original ransom for Anna was six markur, this was a low price.

Joseph had but two pounds of silver in his possession. He would spend it all to free this woman, but had to consider the rest of the journey. "She is with child. What if she does not survive the birth?" He prayed that she would not labour early, and prayed that Zannfe would forgive him his callous words, borne out of necessity. "I will offer you one markur and save you the cost of the travel to market."

She eyed Joseph, before tossing the rope at him. "Fine, take her. And you needn't think her bastard can claim my land!"

Watching the woman stomp away, Joseph cut the rope from her neck. "My name is Joseph. I do not have the money or men to take you to your homeland, but I will take you to my country, as a free woman under my protection." When she curled her hands around her belly, he thought of his own sister Anna, who was becoming heavy with pregnancy. He sensed Zannfe's fear. "Yes, and your child will be safe too." The pair shared a tentative smile, and Joseph pointed to the boat. "I'll find you somewhere to have a little comfort there."

Joseph studied Emmett as he came forward. He spoke in Gaelic. "Brother, taking her to Donegal is either the noblest or cruellest thing you have ever done."

Even by Emmett's standards, Joseph found that the statement was odd. "How is it cruel to save her from the hands of another slave trader?"

"That was your noble gesture. What is cruel is that she may never see her family again, the farther you take her from her people and her lands, the less chance she has of being found by them. What if she has a mother that longs to see her daughter again?" Emmett pointed to the grass roof of the hall in the distance. "Look at Catherine. She was taken from her lands, and had her brain addled by a Norseman."

"At least if she stays with me she will have the right to be a mother herself. And she will be free. Catherine was never a slave." Joseph left it unsaid that Catherine had never known her mother, who had not survived the birth. Emmett was nearly four when she died. It was said that he had not spoken for six moons after it happened.

The standoff was broken by the cries of a house thrall calling out to them. The men took to running towards the hall.

* * *

Catherine was vaguely aware of a familiar voice, but she must be dreaming. "Where is she?" The loud voice cut through the hall and the footsteps came fast. "Catherine, Catherine, you are awake!" A dream did not shake her shoulder like that, nor did a dream smell of sea salt and ale.

"Ellrik, is that really you?"

"Ja, it is me." Catherine started to cry again as Ellrik scooted onto the bed and scooped her into his arms, mindful of her bruises.

"I thought that I had lost you. The storm... the thunder..." Ellrik placed a finger upon her lips to stop her from reliving the terror of that evening.

"Nei, I have been in much worse." He smiled and dropped a gentle kiss on her lips, before holding her in an embrace where she could not see his face. He would never forget the night as long as he lived. The simple rudder at the stern had been partly sheared off by a wave the size of a longhouse, and if it wasn't for the men rowing in unison and his own knowledge of the strength and flexibility of his boat, they would have been dashed upon the rocks. He thanked the gods that Catherine had fainted and missed the worst of the storm. Instead, he managed to guide them to a small settlement at the tip of Jutland. It would have taken a full day to row that far, yet the wind had tossed them the same distance in a matter of hours. Other than the broken rudder, the weather had been mercifully kind to the boat. But Catherine was much more fragile than the seasoned oak timbers of his ship. When she had not woken up but was still breathing, he carried her from the waters-edge to the hall. He kept a vigil for two days and nights, and just that morning, he had left to earn his keep and join the men in helping the farmers with an early harvest of turnips. Emmett was repairing the sail, and Joseph was helping the boat crews. The sun had barely reached the mid point in the sky when the thrall had sent word that she had woken. He was reunited with his wife, and he would not let her from his side until they were back on Halsrafjord.

"Do you want to go North again, Ellrik? I could not bear for any more mishaps to befall us. I pray that our family are safe."

"The family will be safe. None were at sea other than us, and they will not be expecting us back for another cycle and a half of the moon." Ellrik gently combed his fingers through her unbound hair, smoothing out the knots and tangles. He thanked the gods again that they had allowed the threads of his life to cross with hers. Seeing her worried expression, he reiterated, "Nei, we shall sail around the coast of Albion, and go to your home. We are but five days off course." He gave her a reassuring kiss. Now that she was awake and the boat was repaired, they could recommence their journey. Another fortnight should have them there, if the winds remained favourable with the summer tides. "Lightning will not strike in the same place twice."

* * *

Owing to the after effects of the storm, the port at Rika was busier than usual. Lorcan idly watched Helgena as she paced angrily along the dockside. Their boat had made it into harbour with no damage, but a dozen pigs had died with fright, and the excrement of the frightened animals had made them wish they had drowned. He sniggered when Helgena slipped on an uneven, damp plank and fell on her rump. She picked herself up and tutted at the green mossy smear left on her already dirty kirtle.

"Do you think this is funny, Lorcan?" she hissed. He shrugged, barely concealing his mirth. To see the mighty Helgena fall so far was more than mildly amusing. It was the most entertainment he had had in years. "Where is Hrut Blackbeard anyway?" She kicked the offending plank, as if it had been keeping Hrut's whereabouts secret. The small group did not enjoy the idleness. "The journey to Birka in eastern Scandinavia to meet Hrut's alleged mercenaries will not take that long. And the more time I spend hanging around smelly docks, the greater my risk of being captured and brought to trial!"

"Last time I saw him he was looking for a bath house and a whore," Lorcan's lips curled into a sneer. "Of course, we may not have been delayed if you did not to pretend to be so chaste." He sniffed the air. "If you want Kristr Greysteinn to spill his seed within you perhaps you should join Knut in the sweat lodge. Besides, sharing your favours with him might get us on the seas much faster." Lorcan MacHyde had not forgotten what his spoils of war would be. His half brother, Jack had been betrothed to Anna. The beautiful woman may be married to Kristr, but she would be his, and sooner rather than later.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

The light mizzle of summer rain combined with long days of sunlight was promising a good harvest. On this rare dry day, Kristr and his father walked the length of each row of vegetables. It was part of the daily routine to check for blight and fungus. Both men enjoyed the companionable silence broken only by the occasional approval of the crops. The top stalks on the turnips indicated they would be soon pushing through the ground and ready for harvest. Separated by a low fence, the barley, waving in the breeze, was turning from yellow green to a soft gold. Kerik knelt down on the ground, and carefully re-wove a stray piece of willow back into the fence.

"It should not be much longer, Fadir," Kristr surveyed the small fields.

Kerik got off his knees and straightened his back. "Ah, you are right, Son." He pulled an ear of barley and rubbed it between his palms. The grains fell off with a little work. "Not long. If the heavy rains stay away it should be after the next full moon."

"I hope Ellrik will be back by then." Kristr picked a few grains and ground them against a flat stone. As expected, rather than being floury, it was still pale and sticky. By their calculations, assuming Ellrik's ship had weathered the storm; three more weeks should pass before they arrived back to the farm. Kerik had banned any mourning until that time.

"As do I son." He patted his son's shoulder. "Now, there shall be no more talk of Ellrik until the moon has fully waned." Kristr nodded. He understood the decision made was to keep the inhabitants of Halsrafjord calm. Everyone had utmost faith in the Jarl, including his family.

* * *

Anna was helping Gertrude with some laundry. Although her bump was growing, it was not preventing her from taking part in the women's chores. She enjoyed the idle chatter and the friendliness. Besides, seeing the other small children crawling and running about filled her with happiness that she too would be a mother. The creamy linen sheets looked white against the green grass where they had been stretched and smoothed to dry. With her hands on her hips she stood back and surveyed her work with a smile.

She didn't hear the person tiptoeing up behind her. She gasped when her eyes were covered. "Guess who, Sweetling?" The familiar voice whispered in her ear. Beaming, she turned around to see her husband smiling down at her. As he held her close, it was her turn to look down as she felt his arousal pressing against her. "Shall we go to our own hall, wife?"

Anna shook her head, and smirked at Kristr's crestfallen expression. "Nei, husband. Why don't we go for a stroll?" She bounced her eyebrows, signalling her intentions. It didn't take long for Kristr to catch her meaning.

He grabbed a dried sheet from the ground, and bunched it up under his arm. He curled his free arm around her much thickened waist, and caressed her hip bone with his thumb, "I know the perfect spot.

The walk was pleasurable and slow. According to Gertrude's calculations, there was still two full moons of a wait before the baby was born, not including the current moon cycle. When the next cycle was complete, Kerik would send for Maria, and Anna was looking forward to seeing her noisy sister again. Thinking of Maria's lively manner of bouncing through life, it reminded her of their child. "Our little Halsrason is quiet today, Kristr," Anna laughed, "perhaps the laundry tired them out." Kristr stopped and knelt before her, giving his wife's belly a score of kisses. "Little one, know that your mother and father love you." He stood up again and dropped a kiss on her lips before they continued on with their walk. Arriving at the edge of the woods, Anna closed her eyes and turned her face to the sun, enjoying its warmth. "Come," Kristr teased, stepping into the cool green shade of the forest. The sun dappling through the leaves gave the clearing an ethereal otherworldly quality.

"Oh," she breathed, "It is beautiful in here today." Small vines of morning glory curled up the sides of the trunk, their blossoms turned to the light. The white flowers were complimented by the scattered bunches of bluebells, again growing in the sunnier spots where the leaf cover afforded it. Kristr shook out the sheet and smoothed it on the forest floor. He motioned that she should come and sit by him. The earth was dry, yet soft; a bed made of generations of leaves creating a rich yielding soil.

Kristr handed her a waterskin and she sipped, handing it back, but he motioned that she should drink her fill. Anna nodded her thanks. "It is much warmer today than I thought." She unlaced the sides of her kirtle, fanning the linen away from her skin. There was still plenty of material in her dress to allow for more growth of the baby, but the extra fabric was heavy.

"Perhaps you will be cooler if you remove it for a while," Kristr winked. He had already removed his own tunic and leggings, "It will be nice to be as naked as the gods intended." Helping her out of her kirtle, he lay back on his side, supporting his head on his elbow. "And you are a sight of beauty that could only have been created by the gods." He crooked his finger. "Now come here and let me worship at the altar of my own fertile goddess."

* * *

The boat was a little crowded with the addition of Zannfe, heavily pregnant. Emmett glared a few times in her direction, enough that Joseph switched oars with another sea man so that they could sit together.

"Why do you shoot daggers at Zannfe?" Joseph queried. "She has done nothing to you. Her only crime is to be fertile and accept her former master's seed."

Emmett kept rowing, his eyes fixed on the beauty before him. She felt uneasy under his stare, and he knew it. But, he also knew that Joseph was right. This woman had committed no crime against him.

"Brother," Joseph continued, "I know that you do not care for women, but not all are cut from the same cloth." Joseph tugged on the oar a few times, saying no more before finally breaking his silence. "You will have to let a woman in sometime. If not for your own sake, then for the sake of your lands and people. You will need sons." Joseph paused. "And daughters."

Emmet made no comment. He stared straight ahead and put every effort he had to cutting through the waves and getting back to his own lands.

Finally, the craggy shore of the north coast was in sight. They would be sailing down the Lough soon, passing golden sands and lush green fields filled with the harvest. Joseph cut through his thoughts. "Emmett, we shall not stay." Emmett nodded. "Fine, at Dun Sneacht I'll get the stable boy to saddle up a horse and a pack mule and cart for you." Emmett's generosity would be welcomed by his friend. Although it was only ten miles over Kavanagh lands to RathSteele, he wanted to make Zannfe's journey as smooth as possible. Women were not to be trusted, but if anything, he valued Joseph's friendship and good nature, and it was a small gesture for the happiness of his brother.

Catherine and Emmett's father was at the short river pier to meet them, his face heavy. Unthinkingly Ellrik's hand went to his dagger, and was met by a glare from Emmett. Then, he remembered how Kristr was treated at the hands of Raymond of RathSteele when he returned Anna home. Emmett jumped out of the boat barely before it had docked. "Father? What is the matter?" He looked about at the men and women standing listlessly in groups or milling around aimlessly. Suddenly the air was torn in two with the sound of wailing. Catherine cried out at the sound, before covering her mouth with her hands. Seeing Catherine's reaction to the eerie noise caused the Vikings to jump out of the boat, daggers at the ready. Emmett signalled to Ellrik, "Tell your men to settle down, the sound is called 'keening', and it means someone has died."

The Kavanagh chieftain shook his head. "Son, Daughter, Deirdre has died." Emmett turned to his sister and watched as Catherine dropped her head in respect. Just as she would have before she was taken from Ireland. He mused on the footing that Catherine had in two cultures now. For the first time he realised that although she married a Viking, she was still Irish within her heart.

When Catherine's mother had died in childbirth, her maiden sister Deirdre had taken over running of the fort. With no family of her own, she took a hand in raising every child born in Dun Sneacht. Deirdre brought them into the world, gave advice to new mothers, and was not above disciplining the more unruly children in the village. She was loved and feared in equal parts, but as the spinster sister-in-law of the chieftain Deirdre always had respect.

Emmett looked to his father, and then to the people still on the boat. "Yes," he continued, "Deirdre has died, but Father, we must still concern ourselves with the living." He knew Joseph would be keen to see his own father. Holding out his hand to his sister, he aided Catherine out of the boat, followed by Ellrik. Catherine made the introductions, "Father, this is my husband, Ellrik Halsrason, first born son of Kerik Halsrason. Ellrik, may I formally present my father to you, Brian Kavanagh. The men clasped arms. Brian nodded to him. "Thank you for letting me see my daughter again." He rubbed a few of escaped tendrils from her head dress between his fingers. "You look so much like your mother, but alas, another link to her died this morning."

"Well, I suppose we had better go and pay our respects to the dead," Emmett shrugged.

"What is that unholy noise?" Ellrik covered his ears. "This does not sound like any of the sweet singing I have heard from Catherine or Anna."

"Husband, keening is a cry that is performed for two days and two nights after a person has left this mortal life." Catherine interrupted his complaining.

"Well, it would wake the dead." He grumbled and frowned in distaste.

"And that is the point. If a person does not waken up after that continuous noise, then they will not waken up, and they have really gone to Heaven to meet the Lord."

Deidre's body was laid out on a trestle table. Emmet walked up to the corpse, and nudged in between the keening women. Their wailing did not cease, but Emmett no longer heard it. He paled at her waxy corpse, her hands entangled in her Rosary beads. The small silver crucifix was placed over her heart. Although she was only dead a matter of hours, her skin was already drying out. Emmett first touched her crucifix and then her cold forehead. "Well, you old bitch, you can finally face my mother." With his statement, drowned out to most ears, he turned on his heel and left.

Emmett tossed and turned that night. The old dreams played over and over in his mind. He was three years old again. Oonagh, his mother had told him he would have a brother or sister, who would arrive soon, and who would love him so very very much. 'They will love you just as your father and I love you.' Emmett touched his white blond hair. He could feel her playing with his long curls as she spoke to him of love, of heroes and legends. The dream changed. He was outside with the older boys, learning the game of hurling; the first step to becoming a warrior. Deirdre called him over. 'It is high time you had those curls cut.' Emmett was confused. His mother had raised him to tell him adults were always right. He looked to the floor as his hair fell to the floor in fluffy clouds. He looked in the polished silver plate, touching his unfamiliar short hair. The boy in the reflection did not look familiar His next dream was of Oonagh, holding him close. She didn't make a sound but he felt her tears fall, wet on his newly shorn head. 'My beautiful beautiful son, why did she do this to you? Does she hate me so? Why should women be so cruel?' His mother tucked him into bed and with a soft kiss reminded him that she was her son and she would always love him, as would the new child. The next morning he had a new sister and no mother.

Emmett sat up straight. He ran his hand over his cold clammy neck. Pulling his tunic over his head, and tugging up his leggings, he felt and fumbled his way to the room where Deirdre lay. She was still on the table, unmoving. Ignoring the women who continued their lament, he smiled and turned. The bitch really was dead and he could finally lay his mother's sorrows to rest.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Emmett left the wake room, his smile incongruous against the keening of the women. He knew the lamentations were part of the ritual, but when he had touched Deirdre's cold Rosary-wrapped fingers, it was obvious she had left this world. For the first night in as long as he could remember, Emmett slept soundly.

The next morning at breakfast, Emmett ate heartily. Boiled bacon, eggs, griddle bread and creamy milk filled his stomach. He gave a satisfied burp. He was not going to hide his good mood today, despite the mournful faces of others around him. Emmett knew that most of the clan had only tolerated Deirdre because she was the sister of Brian's beloved wife Oonagh. But, as was the custom, no ill would be spoken of the dead, and Deirdre was given the same ritual as any other inhabitant of Dun Sneacht.

As he left the rath, and saw the men digging the grave for Deirdre's body, Emmett took what he felt were the first deep breaths of his life. Today, he felt reborn. The woman whom he believed had killed his mother with sorrow would answer for her actions. His thoughts were broken when he heard Catherine calling his name. Turning around he saw Catherine running towards him, her skirts hitched up around her knees. For a split second it was his baby sister trying to catch up, not his married sister, a full-grown woman.

"Where are you going to in such a rush, Caitlin?" Catherine would like that he used the Gaelic form of her name.

Catherine laughed, a little breathless, "You have not called me that in eight years! Not since I left for RathSteele in fosterage." Emmett offered her his arm for support whilst she caught her breath. "Where are you going? Can I come?"

Emmett flicked her ear playfully. "Although I know you are a married woman now, you will always be a baby sister to me. How long is it since my sister followed me about like an annoying pet piglet?"

Catherine stopped in her tracks. "I am sorry Emmett. The day you got a baby sister, you lost your mother." She looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers onto each other. "If it was not for me you would not have hated women."

Emmett turned to his sister, and held her gently by the shoulders. "Look at me, Caitlin. Look at me." His sister's blue eyes were full of concern. "We lost our mother, but your birth was not why I distrusted women." He gently wiped away the tears that flowed when he told her the story of Deirdre, and his last memory of his mother's sorrow. "For the past nineteen summers I have thought every day of Oonagh, our mother, and how Deirdre had made her last few hours on this world so sad. I do not even know if she lived to know she birthed a daughter."

"Was father disappointed that he did not have another son?" Emmett felt intense guilt. All his life he had been so wrapped up within his own grief without thinking of Catherine. She had spent her life thinking that she was unwanted. Sent to be fostered with another family and betrothed at her first monthly cycle would not have helped her sense of abandonment as nothing but chattel. Ellrik Halsrason and his brother had kidnapped her, but what they had given her in return was a sense of belonging and unconditional love within their family.

"It should be I who offers the apologies, sister." Emmett gave her a long overdue brotherly hug. "Father and I missed mother so much, we did not see the other precious gift that she had left to us." Emmett dropped a chaste kiss on her forehead. "And now that I have finally found my sister she will be leaving me again for the far north." She had blossomed under Ellrik's care, and Emmett finally realised he was enough of a man to admit it. "You have a fine husband, Caitlin. He will continue to look after you, and as long as I know you are in his care, I know you will be safe." Emmett pulled her close again. He had made peace with both himself and his sister this day.

Four days earlier Johan had arrived on Merksjfeld with Rorik. Hilde, Rorik's little grand-daughter was a little miffed that she had been left behind, but Johan knew that he'd carry her feisty little personality in his heart for ever. They were welcomed on the dock by Rorik's wife and Rorik's four unmarried sons. The youngest had just become a man at twelve summers, but it was the older lad that Johan was keen to see. Stig had been in fosterage with Helgena on Jarlshof, but had not been subjected to her bedroom advances. Rorik's eldest twin sons were becoming fine strapping men and carried themselves as warriors. He hoped that they would travel to Halsrafjord with them. Kristr would need all the man-power available.

Sipping the sweet ale that Rorik's wife had supplied, he asked after Maria. He wondered how the males on this steading coped with her constant chatter and matchmaking skills. Johann smiled as he thought of young Maria and her indecision over Joseph and Emmett, even though both men were entirely unsuitable for her.

"She is at the cooking pot, Johan," Rorik's wife, Mathilde advised.

"Maria Halsrason? Cooking?" This news was incredulous to him.

Mathilde laughed, "I have many skills, but teaching Maria how to skin and roast a rabbit is beyond my patience. No, she is brewing a kvann elixir for the lungs." Johan nodded in understanding. Kvann, also known as Angelica, was a useful plant, and native to their land. With her knowledge of healing, she was preparing medicines for the winter months. "Come, you should see how Kerik's daughter has grown. She is on her way to becoming a fine wife."

The roof hole was open in the main hall, casting a wide beam of light accross Maria who was leaning over the fire pit. She was stirring a pot, little beads of perspiration on her brow. Her face was fixed in concentration and as she tucked a stray damp wisp of hair back behind her ear, straightened up and rolled her shoulders, Johan saw the woman that she was becoming. Feeling uncomfortable at how intently he was studying her, Johan cleared his throat, and walked the length of the hall until he caught her eye. She smiled in genuine happiness and rather than running and throwing herself at him, she walked and met him in an embrace. How could a couple of weeks have made such a difference to Maria? Had she always been this grown up, and he just hadn't noticed?

"Johan, why are you here? I did not think to see you until the winter was close by." He didn't get a chance to speak before another question was directed at him. He smiled to himself. Perhaps Maria hadn't changed too much. "Were you shipwrecked in that awful storm?" She shook her head in remembrance, and touched his arm. "I do not know what I would do if anything happened to you." Johan looked down at her hand, pocked with small burns, no doubt from her attempts at cooking and brewing. She always said things like that, so why was he feeling different about them now? He placed his hand over hers.

"You should not worry about me, you know I can slip between worlds."

"And when I was a little girl you promised you would take me with you on a voyage when I reached ten-and-seven summers," she laughed. "Now I am that age, and you have yet to keep your word."

Johan sighed. "The voyage will have to wait for a while longer. As soon as I have had a night's rest, I have to go north to give Kristr some news." Looking at Maria's quizzical eyebrow as she stepped away from him, Johan knew that she would want more of the story. "I do not wish to alarm you, but you will be much safer if you stay here."

Maria folded her arms defiantly. "I am not a child any more Johan. You arrive in Merksfjeld out of season, state your intention to stop for one day and tell me that you have to go and see my brother." She went up to her pot, gave it a stir and lifted it off the hook, shrugging off Johan's advances to help. "Is this about Helgena?" She took his silence as a yes. "Well, I am coming with you."

"Nei, you will stay here where it is safe, even if I have to tether you to a post." He did not know what Helgena had planned for any of the family, but Kerik Halsrason would have his balls on a spit if he put Maria in the path of danger.

Maria wiped her hands on her apron, and lifted the hem to her brow, patting off the sweat. "You have not heard the last of this, Johan Flynn." She used a long thin pole to close over the roof hole slightly. "You are not Jarl of Merksfjeld and I shall see what Rorik has to say." She gave him a narrow stare and walked, not ran, down the hall. Johan sighed. What was the matter with him? He wanted to keep Maria safe and now all he could think about was the gentle sway of her ample backside as she ducked under the lintel of the hall.

After the natmal, Rorik indicated to Mathilde that he would like to speak to the men alone. Maria scowled but followed the women to the other end of the hall. There they would continue with some of their less strenuous duties, such as wool spinning or mending clothes, as well as catching up on the gossip of the day. Maria normally enjoyed this time but this eve she had an ear to the menfolk, and in addition some of the younger women were discussing the handsomeness of Johan. Maria did not like them talking about Johan Flynn in that way, and tried to ignore their chatter and listen in to the men. Unfortunately she could not hear too much save for a few snatched words. It was enough for her to make her decision. "Good night all." She nodded to the women and approached the men.

"Will I see you in the morning?" Johan enquired. Maria didn't want to lie to him. After her drunken doe-eyes over Emmett and Joseph, she realised it was time to start acting like a woman. It was going to be hard enough to find a suitable husband with her overprotective father and brothers without ruining her chances with petulant girlish behaviour. Johan had always had a special place in her heart and she never wanted to cause him hurt.

"Probably not, I have to make an early start to collect some mushrooms in the woods." She tried not to dwell on his disappointed expression, and hoped that when he discovered her plan he would not be angry.

The following morning Rorik, Johan and the three older Merkson boys pushed the boat off down the fjord. The large coracle really carried six people effectively but the space for another man was filled with a sea chest and extra food. Mathilde was convinced that her husband did not eat well enough when he was at sea and insisted on extra provisions. She had instructed that the surplus be given to Gertrude Halsrason to help feed the voracious appetites of her growing boys. Johan was happy to be on the final stretch of the journey. He was sure he would make it to Kristr before Helgena did, but he was worried for the family's safety nonetheless.

As the sun rose to the high point in the sky the men eased off on their rowing to get some sustenance. Johan reached over to flip open the sea chest of food and when he saw the contents he bellowed a long curse to Thor and Odin for his Norse blood, Manannan and Lugh for his Celtic line. The cargo uncurled herself from the wooden chest and climbed out. She glared at Johan and the shocked faces of the other men.

"I am not leaving my brother and my family to face that half-troll Helgena." Her tone was resolute. Johan was not sure of his emotions, and this was sensation that was unfamiliar to him. His heart was already distracted by Maria, and his head wanted to simultaneously scold and praise her for the brave action. To turn back now would mean a precious day lost, so he had no option but to continue north.

"Maria, when this is over I shall get my revenge on you," Johan barely could form the words through gritted teeth. "You will be kept out of mischief the only way I know how." He slammed the sea chest shut and motioned that she should sit. "I will ask Kerik to let me take you to wife."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

* * *

Although Maria was not in the least bit intimated by Johan, his announcement that he would marry her had nonetheless taken her aback.

She pouted, then rearranged her clothes about her, swathing her long shawl around her body. Her long black tresses tossed around her face. She started to braid her hair to stop it tangling in the wind. "And who said I am ready to be a wife? Do you believe that I shall follow you around on the open seas?"

"Just as you are following me around now? I don't think that it will present much of a challenge." Maria scowled at Johan's smirk. He had always promised he would take her on a voyage, but that was when she was a small girl. She was coming near marrying age, and she knew that Kerik would give his blessing to a union with Johan, especially if it meant that they would settle in Halsrafjord. She wriggled around on the sea chest and stared out over the prow.

"Maria, what of Rorik's wife, Mathilde? She will think that you have met a mishap. Had you thought of the worry that you will have caused her?" She rolled her eyes at his lecturing tone.

"She has nothing to fear from my absence. I confided in her of my plans."

She heard a joint snort. Johan, of course was one, and the other was from Rorik, who now chose to do more than listen to the conversation."

"Rorik! Do you hear this? Your wife has abetted this – wench – in her schemes!"

"Ja, I am listening." Rorik growled. "And what did my wife say, Maria?"

Maria twisted her body around to face Rorik. "She said she would do the same thing for her own brothers." She recalled Mathilde's strong words as she had quietly prepared and filled Maria's medicinal satchel.

Rorik paused for a moment, resting on his oar. "Of course she would. She was as wild as you in her day." He picked up the beam again and started to row. "And she has passed her blood onto our sprite of a grand-daughter, Hilde. Leif, my eldest son will have trouble with that she-Viking!"

Maria turned again lest Rorik see her triumphant smile, which faded quickly into realisation. She was glad she made the choice to be with her family. Anna would need her soon for help with birthing the babe. The boat was packed with weapons. Although she did not know the full story from Johan yet, they were sailing in preparation for war. She just hoped that the skills taught by Matilda in treating battle wounds would not be needed.

* * *

Helgena pulled her cloak tightly around her shoulders, and pulled her cowl as far over her face as possible. Travelling by ship had never bothered her before. But this was no short trip down the side of Alban. She and Lorcan had been at sea for three months, over two of them being treated as human cargo on Hrut Blackbeard's longship Even though it was summer, the exposure to the salty elements and biting wind had left her feeling that the skin was flayed off her face and arms. She dreaded to think what she looked like, probably a wrinkled crone like her sister Gertrude. Since her escape from the Shetland Jarlshof, with barely the clothes on her back, she had crossed open waters to Jelling and demanded return of a favour from Snorri Longshanks. To Rika where she had engaged the mercenary Hrut Blackbeard. Knowing she was being hunted as an outlaw by Kerik Halsrason and the Jarls of the Western Shores, Helgena was at Hrut's mercy. Their final stop were in Birka and Gotland, the bustling ports off the coast of East Scandinavia. It was there that Helena finally saw what her coin had bought. The services of mercenaries.

She cast her eye over the group of men that they had gathered in Gotland. These were mercenaries who gave their services to the highest bidder, yet loyal to none but themselves and the pieces of gold. They were battle hardened. There wasn't a single gallowglass amongst them who did not have the scars on their skin to show that he had fought, or the dark shadows in his eyes that spoke of mayhem and murder. For money, these men had cheated death, and won, thought Helgena. This private army would follow her for coin, Hrut included.

She waited by the water cask until Hrut approached, and summoned Lorcan to join them.

"I should like to go home to the Jarlshof one last time before we head north and sack Halsrafjord."

Hrut laughed, his tone sarcastic and mocking "You wish to return to the scene of your crimes?" She moved to strike him, but Hrut ducked out of the way. "I did not take you for a fool of a woman Valkryie." Helgena looked past him to the two score of men rowing.

"I am no fool. I have gold concealed there. I want it, and you can have a substantial share if you aid me."

Hrut dipped the wooden bowl back into the water barrel and took a long drink. "I do not wish to fall into your honey trap. Do you believe that your enemies have not scoured your lands?"

She shrugged. "They could strip the land bare, burn every blade of grass and they still would not find my treasure." Helgena took the drinking vessel from Hrut and sipped on the stale water. "Do you not trust me? Have I broken my word yet?"

It was Hrut's turn to shrug. "Valkryie, I trust that what I can hold."

From around the mast, Helgena unwound a length of rope. She coiled it neatly and placed it in Hrut's hands. "Trust this. If I have lied about the treasure buried within my lands, you can bind me and take the wergild bounty that is upon my head. The Jarls will be happy to pay for my capture." Helgena smiled, but it was an empty emotion. She was watching the weights and measures work in Hrut's mind. "What I have in gold and silver would pay you and your men for more than a year." And that was only the half of her trove. If Hrut thought she had coin to buy an army, he would double his demands. Lorcan was not driven by money. Helgena knew the only thing he wanted to hold was Anna, the woman who had been betrothed to Jack MacHyde, his dead brother.

"Now you would still fetch a fine price at market, even though you are no longer the beauty you once were." Hrut's eyes narrowed, but Helgena gave no emotion away. These were the skills that she had taught her fosterlings. "But you would be worth a lot more to me if I handed you over to the Jarls."

"So, do you take the chance? Either way you will come out richer. How much richer is up to you." Helenga was glad of the cowl covering her face. She could not tempt Hrut with her willing flesh, but she could see his excitement at the thought of more gold in his pouch.

"And do you have a plan to slip in and out unnoticed, Valkryie? If your lands are guarded how will you retrieve this alleged treasure?"

Haughtily, she brought herself to her full statuesque height, almost seeing Hrut eye to eye. "It is my land. It is in my blood, and I will shed blood afore I give it up to my sister and her husband without a fight."

* * *

Anna and Gertrude were picking their way along the path to the fields. The time of year was known as Lunasa in Ireland, but here it was Tvímánuður, the first month of the harvest, and the men were working hard in the fields. There was one more full moon cycle to pass before Kerik would permit anyone to worry about Ellrik and Catherine's voyage to Ireland. According to the Norse calendar, it was still summer, but night air was getting that gentle nip. The leaves would soon fall from the trees, and the long dark winter would be upon them. Between this month and the next, Halsrafjord would be busy with the preparations.

With a near-empty basket in one hand, Anna used the other to massage her fast-growing bump. The babe was lively today, a happy sign for her. Kristr had spent several hours last night in the main hall, reciting sagas. He maintained that it was for the benefit of their unborn child, but Anna and the rest of the gathering were in his thrall nonetheless. She looked down at her pregnant belly, and giggled when it dawned on her that she could no longer see her feet. "Little one, no are not so little any more." Gertrude overheard the one sided conversation and smiled at her daughter-by-marriage. "Do you think the babe can hear me?"

"Ja, Dottir. He can hear." When Anna raised an eyebrow, her mother-in-law corrected herself, "Or she."

"Do you truly believe that?"

Gertrude nodded. "There have been sad times when a baby does not survive the full pregnancy." She cupped her hands together. "Although the infant would not be more than this size, they were fully formed. I like to think that before they joined their ancestors, they had heard and known their mother's voice." Stopping, she bent over and touched Anna's belly. "Fruit of my son's loins, know that you are loved."

* * *

Anna never could look at Kristr working in the fields without feeling her heart leap with joy and her body fill with lust. It was not mid-day yet, but he was naked from the waist up, a sheen of sweat glistening over his body. In recent days the rain had eased, and the harvest had rapidly turned from pale green to a soft yellow gold. She watched the muscles in his back flex as he bent and stretched, tossing the bunches of sheaves onto the simple wooden cart. It was only last night that those strong arms had carried her, lifting the extra weight with ease. He had taken her to bed, where loveplay had started with gentle teasing over which language the babe preferred to hear. It had developed from there into whispers in her ear, when he had described in such intimate detail what he wanted to do that she herself blushed like a virgin. Finally catching his eye he gave her a salacious grin and she felt her cheeks pinken again.

Kristr called to Kerik and they both came over to the women. Anna hoped that Kristr would still look at her with as much fondness as Kerik did to Gertrude, even after all these years.

"Well, wife, what have you brought for me?" Kristr kissed her belly and jumped back in shock and delight when he felt the baby kick. "Our son is going to be a hurling player, like the boys at RathSteele, Sweetling."

Anna tutted loudly and playfully. "And what makes you think that it is a boy? Don't you think that girls can be strong too?" She made to turn away from the men. "Mayhap this girl will not have any treats for you in her basket!"

Kerik's loud voice interrupted her protests. "Whatever child lies in your womb, may they be happy and healthy." He bounced his eyebrows and pointed to the basket, "and may they have the generosity of spirit of their wild Irish mother."

"Pah, I know now where Kristr gets his silver tongue." She carefully removed the stopper from the leather skin bag contained within her basket. "This is my first attempt at your Norse winter drink. Gertude assures me that it will be much more palatable when it is warm, but I wanted you to try it, and perhaps I can improve on it before the Yuletide." It was a drink made from fermented grain of the previous year, honey and bog myrtle. Kristr drank some and smacked his lips in appreciation.

Kerik saw his son's reaction and eyed the container greedily. "Let me try, and I shall see if I shall give my Jarl's approval to our Gaelic goddess' skills." He drained the bag and held it out for more.

Gertrude smacked his hand away and grabbed the empty bag. "That's enough for you, Husband, I know what a beast you are the next morning after you have partaken in too many cups."

"I may be a beast in the morning, but you never complain about the beast that takes you to the furs!" Kerik retorted, ignoring his the huffing and puffing from Gertrude.

Kristr's chuckle faded as he saw a ship on the horizon of the fjord and he looked to his father, who squinted and frowned at the vessel.

"Sweetling, would you mind going back to the hall with Gertrude and prepare some ale for the visitors that appear to be approaching." He give her a kiss on the nose, and watched the gentle sway of her ample backside for a few moments before turning his attention to the approaching vessel. Kristr dropped the hay-fork and picked up his axe. He strode to the short wooden pier. The sail was easily recognisable as that of Rorik Merkson, but this was not a peaceful visit, based on the number of shields that were arranged on the sides of the ship. Kerik came up behind him.

"Merkson does not normally sail under shields. It seems like they prepare for war." The jarl gritted his jaw, and shaded his eyes, trying to get a better look at the men within the ship. "I recognise Rorik, Johan, and by Thor, Maria is with them!"

Kristr followed his father's gaze. "You are right. When they moor, you know that Johan will explain all."

Kristr caught the rope that Johan threw from the ship, and with Kerik's help they hauled it onto the shallow bank, securing it onto the small pier. Johan lowered Maria into his waiting arms, and he braced himself for an exuberant hug from his little sister, but she merely gave a warm embrace, before quietly moving and allowing herself to be held in Kerik's arms.

"Brother, I look forward to finding out why you have arrived under these circumstances." Kristr clasped arms with Johan. "I suspect that you do not bring good news."

"Do you bring news of my other son, Johan?" Kerik interrupted. Although Kerik had forbidden anyone from worrying about Ellrik and Catherine, Kristr had assumed it was still on his mind, but the Jarl had a steading to run and people to lead. Keeping the souls on Halsrafjord safe and settled had been his priority.

"Nei, Jarl Kerik, but I do have news to share with you, and they are not good tidings."

Kerik noticed Gertrude and Anna coming towards them with ale. "Well, come, partake in a horn and walk to the main hall with us. You know you are always welcome here."

Johan recounted to the assembled family how he had seen Helgena in Jelling, and her companion was a man who looked like MacHyde.

"I suppose it is possible that he had a brother," Kerik mused. "But Grainne had only borne two sons, Jack, who is dead and Kristr, my son."

"So Jack and this other brother would have shared a father, whereas Jack and Kristr shared a mother?" Anna's query was met with a nod by Kerik.

"More importantly though, Helgena is alive, and she has a scheme to wreak her revenge. She does not believe that she has done anything wrong."

Kerik banged his fist on the bench. "She abused my son, she mistreated the sons of other Jarls. She will pay for her crimes."

"She has hired mercenaries, Jarl. Her intention is to sail North and take what she believes is hers."

Anna paled, knowing what the answer would be. "She wants Kristr." She looked at her husband. "She is so crazed, she believes you will return to her."

Kristr growled in disgust. "I want nothing to do with that woman. There is no amount of coin or mead that would addle my brain to lie with her."

"Kristr, brother, that is why she has bought the services of Swede warriors. She will take you by force. The reward for her Irish companion is Anna." A startled gasp went around the hall, and Kristr pulled Anna close.

Kerik stood up. "So this is the war for which you have prepared?"

"Ja, and this is why Rorik has come with me. You saved his younger son, and he is proud to repay the blood debt."

It was Rorik's turn to stand. "I give you my word as a man, a warrior and a fellow Jarl that we will conquer our shared enemy." Kerik clasped arms with Rorik in thanks.

"Her ship will not dock on my lands, nor will she harm my family or any creature on the farm." Kerik was resolute. "We will be ready for her."

* * *

Catherine curled up beside Ellrik in their bed. "What are you thinking about, wife?"

She giggled, and lightly twirled her fingers in the pale blond hair on his chest. "What I am always thinking about when we are cuddled like this."

Ellrik ran his fingers along the length of Catherine's hair, fanned over her back and breasts. "You know, I always thought that you Christians only enjoyed laying with a man if it was to make a husband happy. I never assumed that you would be every bit as lusty as a Norsewoman." He winced and bleated in mock outrage when she then tugged on the short curls.

"I am the only Norsewoman in your life now!"

"Oww! I want no other woman in my life ever, save for a daughter or two."

Catherine sighed. "And I hope that I can bear you many sons and daughters too, Ellrik." She touched her still-flat belly. "Do you think it is time we went North again? Perhaps when we are settled, my womb might grow with child."

Ellrik removed her hand from his chest and wriggled up in the bed. He pulled her close. "If you are ready to sail again, we shall sail." Kissing her forehead, nose and closed eyelids. "We can leave, and break the journey in Jarlshof, now that it is free of Helgena's hold."

"When do you think we can go North? I miss Gertrude and Anna. She is the only mother I have known."

"Well, it will take a day or two to load the ship with provisions, but there is something else I want to do before then." He scooted back down the bed.

"Come here and let me carry out my husbandly duty before our peace as husband and wife ends."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Hello all, thank you for reading. It's been a while since I updated, so to recap

Anna is still pregnant, but it's getting close to the birth

Johan has come back to Halsrafjord to warn Kristr of Helgena's plans, and Maria was a stowaway on his ship, so she's there now too.

Catherine and Ellrik are in Ireland, but are preparing to leave for the North again.

Helgena is still an outlaw, and is heading back to her lands in Shetland to share her golden hoard with Hrut  
Blackbeard, the mercenary. She needs to buy his favour.

* * *

The wind was buffeting loudly into the sail as it pushed Hrut Blackbeard's ship forward towards Shetland. Using the distant craggy coast of Scotland as a guide, Elena reckoned that there would only be another day or two on the boat. She stared into the middle distance, the gentle rocking of the near empty barrel refocusing her attention to the long ship and her surroundings. Although provisions were running low, she never wanted to see or smell another piece of dried herring again. Her mouth watered as she thought of her former slave Ethel catching and skinning a rabbit for her natmal. Idly, she wondered if Ethel and Ruth were still alive. No doubt if the Greysteinns were involved, they would have freed them. Just like Kerik freed Aisling. Helgena stared into the barrel of salted fish. These disgusting meals would be worth it when Kristr yielded to her, and Kerik was on his knees as a former Jarl.

She glanced up when the shadow of the dark-haired Swede cast over the barrel. He reached in and pulled out a fish. His black curly hair whipped around his face and beard as he shoved the meat into his mouth, only pausing to spit out the bones. "A fine wind pushing me towards more coin, Valkryie." Hrut's dark expression lightened at the mention of gold. "You know, Valkryie, if you think that I will not turn you over to Greysteinn and his Jarls, you are mistaken. I will not accept treachery."

Helgena pulled away the cawl that covered her wind burned face. "Whether treachery or not, you will get your payment." She turned away in distaste as he drank greedily from a water skin, swished the liquid around his mouth and spat it out. "It is obvious you have not spent any time in the courts of the Franks or the Saxons, with your manners. Do you care never to take a wife?"

Hrut wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "I had a wife. She bore me a daughter in secret, and left the child to die because she wanted a son." He hawked and gobbed a mass of phlegm over the edge of the boat. "Now money is the only mistress in my life, lest you think your friendly thighs will suffice." She turned her back to him, ignoring his twisted smirk and smarting from his insult. "It will be a long time before I spread my thighs for you." Summoning all her confidence, she gave a dismissive flourish. "Now, Mercenary, leave me be."

Helgena kicked the cask again, but it only rocked back and forth before returning to its position. She refused to accept that she was past her prime. She was Helgena of the Jarlshof, a shield maiden and foster mother to a score of Norse sons. Now she was Helgena, an outlaw in worn out clothes with three moons of grime embedded into her skin. So what if she had taken her fosterlings to her furs? By Norse law they were men. The fathers should be thanking her, not hunting her.

She scowled when she saw Lorcan come forward and dip his hand into the barrel. Obviously she was not going to get any peace today to wallow in her thoughts. She chose to needle her companion instead. "What do you plan to do with the Halfling if Greysteinn has already left a scrap of a brat in her womb?" Lorcan's eyes narrowed. "Had you not thought of that? Do you intend to cut the child from her belly?" Seeing his discomfort, she continued. "Even if there is no child, you know that she will not be virgin now. What if you do not measure up to the standards of Kristr?"

Lorcan shrugged, then scratched his patchy beard. "If she is with child, I'll see what she bears. A boy, I have no need for. He will have too much of his father's spirit within him." He winked at Helgena. "Although if he reached twelve years of age, I'm sure you would enjoy taking him. After all you did lay with both my father and my brother many moons ago." He gave a hollow laugh. "A girl child would fetch a much higher price at market. When she came of age she'd make a bed slave. There is nothing like keeping the squealing child around to keep a wench in order docile and compliant."

Unsatisfied with his rebuttal, Helgena could not resist. "Is that why you lived? So that your milkmaid mother would service MacHyde?" She had not forgotten that Lorcan was the bastard offspring of Elizabeth the dairy maid and an insatiable MacHyde. Aisling had resisted his advances and had been beaten for her rejections. Elizabeth, permitted to keep her child, had acquiesced.

Lorcan hitched in his breath. "Be very careful Helgena. You may have bought loyalty from Hrut with gold. So far, I owe you nothing, yet you owe me everything. You hope to keep your womb clear for Greysteinn's seed, but," he pinched her cheek and she winced at the pain and the cold in his fingers. "My seed may be sown first." She twisted out of his grasp, and, rubbing her cheek, he walked the length of the long ship, his guttural laugh ringing in her head. She clamped her hands over her ears and screamed loudly, but the barbs of the men had sunk into her brain. The sooner she got onto her own land and could control matters again, the sooner she could see her plan to fruition.

* * *

The sun was bright in the sky, and the smell of mid-autumn was in the air in Donegal. The few trees that grew by the shore were already shedding their leaves, one by one in the light breeze. Ellrik took a deep breath, and rolled his shoulders. He was relieved to be sailing north again. By the time they reached Jarlshof, the halfway point, the nights would already be closing in. Winter was a challenge in the north, but he loved the preparations and the closeness of the family when they all shared the same living space. This season it would be different. The gentle breaths of his wife would be the sound of the night, rather than the loud yet rhythmic snoring of his father and sister. He chuckled inwardly. The black-haired Maria obviously looked nothing like her adoptive father, but was as animated as him.

The gentle familial scene in front of him, brought him back to the present. As well as Catherine's family, Joseph and Zannfe had come to say farewell. Zannfe had borne a boy, with skin so rich and smooth he might have passed for Joseph's own son. Joseph was still very protective of the former slave, fussing around her and the infant, making sure that the chill in the breeze was not affecting either of them. Without a hint of jealousy, he wondered if he would ever have a family of his own to cherish in this way.

Ellrik watched as Catherine hugged Emmett tightly. "I shall miss you brother." She nuzzled into his chest, and Ellrik hoped it was due to anxiety about leaving. Earlier that morning she had complained of a bellyache, and his only assumption was nerves. He had had some ideas on how to relieve them, but he would need the help of his brother-by-marriage.

Emmett dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead. "And my world will be a much emptier place without you around, and without your pagan husband to cause me consternation." He grinned when Ellrik cleared his throat and playfully punched him on the shoulder. "Of course, if anyone deserves my sister, and to become family, then I suppose it is this wild and crazy Northman." Breaking his embrace from his sister, he clasped Ellrik's arms. "Look after her, may you give her many fine sons and daughters." He turned away and swiped at his eye. His voice cracked "And keep her safe from harm."

Ellrik curled his arm around Catherine's waist and squinted at their longship at the small wooden dock. "It looks like the tide will turn shortly, and we will be on our way." He held her tighter. "Emmett, I love my wife dearly, and I will lay down my life for her. I also promise that if she ever finds me to be cruel, or if I fail to sire her children, that I will not hold her to the marriage."

The priest , his presence arranged by Ellrik and Emmett, came forward and sprinkled holy water on them and made the sign of the Cross. Catherine bowed her head in silent prayer and blessed herself. Ellrik did not, but nodded his thanks to the priest. He had arranged the visit through Emmett, and knew that the short ritual would ease Catherine's mind for the voyage home. In a few hours

* * *

Helgena's excitement was palpable as the long low buildings of her Jarlshof were now visible; their blurred shapes recognisable to her trained eye, even in the low morning light. She directed Hrut's men into the natural shallow harbour, the low water level easily accommodating the Viking ship. Suddenly the peace and quiet anticipation was shattered when the alarm was raised on the land by a young blond haired man, and his companion. Their loud shouting had now only roused the sentries on the land, but startled Hrut's men on the boat. Helgena watched in horror, as after so many weeks at sea, it was evident that their blood lust was pumping through their veins. They jumped from the boat and waded through the shallow water, hurling oaths at their enemies and swinging their axes.

"Hrut!" Helgena yelled at the top of her voice. "You must stop them!"

"I cannot, they are in berserker brain." Hrut tied the knots on his leather jerkin and pulled on his helmet. "Surely you have not lost your stomach for war, Valkryie?"

"Live hostages will be worth more than dead Jarls" she hissed. "Surely you know the value of a prisoner?"

"I know the value of your gold, Valkryie, and I know the value of a captive." Taking a length of rope, he slithered towards her. Helgena drew her dagger and lunged but he was too quick, and tripped her. She landed against the split rails of the deck with a thud, and he bound her ankles together, and pulled her by her feet until he reached the mast. Lashing her feet, he grabbed her salt-stiffened hair until she winced and released the dagger, skidding across the deck. She no longer fought as he bound her hands. "I shall hold you as wergild until I return, lest you think you shall renege on your promise of coin." Hrut jumped off the boat and into the melee.

Helgena was furious. She twisted angrily at the ropes and bit her lip when she realised she had caused her wrists to bleed. The salt in the air and on the ropes burned into her skin, and she hissed in pain,

"Lorcan! Untie me!" She twisted her body and saw Lorcan looking down at her in dark amusement. How could she have fallen so far, to be hostage to a man.

"I don't think so Helgena." He got down on his haunches and arranged her into a sitting position. "If I help you, I will lose my chance to take a bride, as Hrut would cut off my balls and let every man on board force his way into my arse." Lorcan was aware of the treatment of male prisoners, who were not Norse. The rape of a man was sometimes about sexual desire, but mostly to force submission and capitulation.

* * *

Finally freed by Hrut, Helgena chose to ignore him as picked her way through the bodies of a score of dead men, young and old. The smell of blood and death hung in the moist autumn air. Her stomach churned as she saw the lifeless eyes of a man, staring off at the sky, his head almost sliced clean off his shoulders, the spine jutting out at an angle. She looked to his grey right hand, still gripped around his sword. So young to lose his life but he would feast in Valhalla tonight. She refused to feel any guilt for the loss of life. This mayhem was caused by Hrut and his inability or reluctance to control his men. She looked behind at her companion and studied his garments. The fact that there were no spatters of brain or entrails on the mercenary's clothes indicated that he did not take part in any battle, despite the violent actions of his men.

"Well, Valkryie, I believe you owe me some gold." Hrut pinched a nostril shut and through the other blew a green mass, the mucus landing on the ground with a low splat. "Lead on."

Helgena looked at him in disgust, and tossed her muddy shawl onto a nearby bush. "Fine, come with me then, Gallowglass." She led him past her hall, and into an outbuilding. Lifting a trapdoor, they entered a souterrain.

Hrut sniffed loudly. "The air in here is fresh." He ran his fingers along the earthen wall, seeking a draught.

"You look in the wrong place, Hrut." Helgena bent over and slipped her hand, seemingly into the loose dirt on the floor. The soil, once moved, gave up its secret of another trap door. She gave a tug, and the clean air whooshed in. She was not going to give up the secret any further. "Stay here." She dropped down into the hole and a few seconds later she pulled herself back out. She handed Hrut a small tarnished silver box. "That should cover your services." Both of them would know that it was not all her gold, but this current display of treasure would meet the needs of Hrut and his men. "On one condition. I do not need any more bloody bodies and guts scattered across my land. Save your warmongering and blood-eagles for Halsrafjord and the Greysteinn family."

One of Hrut's men came into the hall. "A Norse ship has been sighted on the horizon, and it appears that they are making towards land here." He pulled his axe from the holder on his back.

"No!" Helgena shouted at the men. "I want to find out who these people are before you make a decision to kill them." The man stopped, and looked at Helgena, but his eyebrows rose questioningly to his leader, Hrut.

Hrut pursed his lips. "Let the woman have her way. We do not have any quarrel with this long ship – yet." He summoned his available men. "Stay concealed until they land. Then we shall let Valkryie make her decision. For a price, of course."


End file.
